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E SPECTRE'S 
SECRET 

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THE SPECTRE’S SECRET. 


CHAPTER I. 

A SHADOW UPON INGLESIDE. 

HE principal incidents of the following 
story are yet within the memory of 
many living, and some are living who 
acted parts therein. One of the chief 
incidents of the sea came under the 
writer’s own observation, as did the 
most important of the closing scenes. 
Hence, the reader may not find our 
Ingleside, nor our Oxington upon the 
map as we locate them, though, be 
sure, they had an existence, if not in latitude and in 
name, yet all the same. 

There was a shadow upon Ingleside. The master lay 
dead in the grand old mansion, and people mourned. 
Of relatives by blood, there were few, very few, to note 
the departure of the good old man, but his goodness had 
endeared him to many, and he had been a Christian 
neighbor to the multitude. 



[ 7 ] 


8 


The Spectre s Secret . 


Walter Hargrave died on Wednesday, the ninth of 
December, 1840, and as a few circumstances of the time 
anterior are necessary to an understanding of our story, 
we will briefly give them. 

The family at Ingleside had consisted of Walter 
Hargrave, aged sixty ; of an adopted son, named Horace 
Moore, aged twenty-one ; of a housekeeper, named 
Edith Somerby, aged thirty; and of a few faithful 
house-servants and farm-hands. Hargrave had never 
married. In his youth he had plighted his faith and 
given his love to Clara Edgarton. Later he went to sea 
with an uncle, promising Clara that they would be mar- 
ried when he returned. Two years passed, and word 
came that the ship had been lost, and then Clara, in 
answer to the entreaties of her parents, gave her hand, 
without her heart, to a man of means, named Moore. 

Three years after her marriage Walter Hargrave 
came home to tell the story of shipwreck and disaster 
upon a far-away desert island. When he knew all 
he could not in his heart blame Clara ; and yet, from 
that time they were not happy. 

Years, long years, passed away, and Hargrave, grown 
wealthy and retired from business, was on his way 
home from England. On board the same steamer was 
a widow and her son. With the son, Hargrave formed 
an accidental acquaintance and liked him. He was a 
youth of not more than eighteen, singularly beautiful 
and manly, with a clear, healthful skin, and a face 
beaming with intelligence. He gave his name as 
Horace Moore. By and by Mr. Hargrave asked for the 
young man's mother. She was sick, and confined to her 
state-room, so Horace reported ; and his look told 
that he was anxious. The old gentleman’s sympathies 
were excited, and he gained an introduction to the 
invalid, and found her to be the Clara of other years. 


A Shadow Upon Ingle side. 


9 


A little while, and the long season of shadow was for- 
gotten, and the twain returned to the love-light and 
warmth of the time agone. Clara’s husband had been 
dead three years, and she was now dependent almost 
entirely upon her true and faithful son for support. 
Young as he was, he had already gained an enviable 
official position at sea, and was now only on a short 
vacation, his own shipowners having obtained free pas- 
sage for himself and mother on the present trip. 

Bright hours they were. Love’s young dream had 
not forgotten a single one of the tender memories, nor 
was a single strain of the old music warped from its 
sweet harmony. Tenderly, lovingly they talked of the 
far-away times, shutting up their thoughts entirely to 
the passages of cloud intervening. It was a space of 
ecstatic joy. In those few short days Clara lived a life 
that gave glorious light of love on the road to heaven, 
and Walter Hargrave felt that the bliss of a lifetime 
had been crowded into the golden moments. 

But the blow was to fall. One day Clara’s face grew 
very pale, as though done with earth, and her eye grew 
preternaturally bright, as though taking light from the 
angels. Walter held her to his bosom, and asked her why 
she breathed so quickly and so weakly. 

“Oh, my darling !” he said, “ go with me, and be the 
light and life of Ingleside.” 

“ My only love,” she answered, with a smile, “ I will 
be your light and life in heaven if I can.” 

But Walter Hargrave felt that he could not have it so. 
With all his power of sympathy and of love he nursed 
the failing woman, and with all his power of faith he 
prayed to God. But the saving of the earth -life was hot 
to be. The angel host had come, and awaited the new 
member. 

The shadows of evening had fallen, and only the 


IO 


The Spectre s Secret, 


throbbing of the seething heart of the great ship broke 
the stillness ; and even that throbbing had become of 
such use, and was of such consonance of rhythm, tha* 
its ceasing would have crushed the harmony of the 
hour. Clara’s head lay upon Walter’s bosom, and his 
strong arms were around her. 

Talk of youthful love ! There is one great love of a 
lifetime, and when this love lasts into the evening, it is 
great and holy, coming nearer to the warmth of the 
love eternal. The true heart of youth never grows old. 
The brow may become seamed and shadowed ; the head 
may become silvered like snow ; and the limbs may for- 
get their strength and their cunning ; but the heart of 
such as truly and righteously grow old is fitted, in the 
last hour, as the heart of a little child, for birth into the 
kingdom where love and goodness are ever present and 
eternal. 

“ Walter, since you have made me believe that my 
living might give joy to you, I would fain live a little 
while longer. But it may not be. The hand of transition 
is upon me, even now. My son, whom I dearly love, and 
who will have no near relative living when I am gone, 
must continue on to America. You will help him if you 
can, and see him safely on his way back to England, 
where he will again go on board his ship. He is a good 
boy, and has already a fair start in his profession.” 

“ Clara, leave the boy with me. I will do by him as 
though he were my own son. But of yourself — is there 
not something we can do ? Oh ! I must not lose you.” 

“ It will not be for long, Walter. You were my first 
— have been my only love. And in this there has been 
no falsehood. Farnell Moore knew from the first where 
my heart was, and he never spoke harshly in relation 
thereto. In the world to come, I know God will let the 
first true love of a life be the leading light of earthly 


A Shadow Upon Ingleside . 


II 


memory. Oh ! it will not be for long, Walter — not for 
long.” 

And the grey-haired man sat there, and held the 
dying woman in his arms, and upon his bosom she fell 
asleep — fell into the peaceful sleep that is to know no 
more shock of earthly waking. 

They were within four days’ sail of New York, and 
Walter Hargrave preserved the body of the deceased, and 
had it sacredly interred at Ingleside. And he asked 
Horace Moore to remain with him. He had conceived 
a strong love for the youth, and could not give him up. 

Finally, Horace consented, if Mr. Hargrave would 
obtain his discharge from the British East India service, 
to live with him as a son, provided he was allowed to 
make himself useful. The discharge was obtained, and 
after a time, the young man, at his own urgent request, 
was allowed to enter the office of Asher Merton, Esq., 
of Oxington, to study law. 

“You can do as you please in this respect,” said 
Hargrave. “ I suppose a knowledge of law will not be 
amiss in your care for the property which I shall leave 
in your charge.” 

“ My dear friend,” said Horace on one occasion — and 
he spoke with a heartiness which lasted for all time, — 
“ I will set forth in life to steer my own ship, and work 
her sailing. If, in the time to come, your love and con- 
fidence shall fall upon me in a golden shower, I would 
have my life so attuned that the deed shall be more to 
my heart than the gold. I would have the deeper treas- 
ure in the memory of the giver, rather than in the gift.” 

On which occasion Walter Hargrave threw his arms 
around the youth, and kissed him, and said : 

“ Dear boy, you don’t know how like your mother jmu 
are. Bless her sainted spirit ! and bless you ! I love 


12 


The Spectres Secret . 


you, Horace, and I only ask, for the rest of my days on 
earth, that your love may be my warmth and my joy !” 

And Horace tried that it should be so. No, he did 
not try, his life so naturally, in love and reverence, ran 
its course, that it could not have been otherwise. 

One day in autumn, when Horace Moore had been 
three years an inmate of Ingleside mansion, Edith 
Somerby came to him and told him that she feared Mr. 
Hargrave was dangerously sick. 

“ It cannot be,” said Horace. u He has only a cold, 
which your kind nursing ought soon to overcome.” 

Horace was upon the point of starting for New York, 
where he had business in court to attend to for Mr. 
Merton. Edith advised him to let Mr. Merton go and 
attend to it himself. But the youth saw Mr. Hargrave, 
and was assured, with gushing and hearty confidence, 
that he might go to New York with safety. And the 
old man poo-pooh’d excessively at the idea of his being 
really sick. 

And so Horace Moore went to New York. He was 
less than four hours running down the seventy miles on 
the Hudson ; but the case he had in charge was a chan- 
cery suit, and he had to wait his turn, so he was gone 
over a week. When he got back the first snow of winter 
had fallen, and he found Mr. Hargrave very sick. 

Edith Somerby was the daughter of a poor farmer 
whom Walter Hargrave had materially assisted, and one 
who had been robbed by death of an early love, and 
hence the faith and strength of her prime were given 
to the master who had been kind to her and hers. She 
loved Mr. Hargrave, and understood him thoroughly ; 
and she loved and esteemed the youth whom her mas- 
ter had adopted ; and if she had one aim of life para- 
mount to another, it was to serve these two. 

“ Horace/’ she said to the young man, when he 


A Shadow Upon Ingle side. 


13 


returned — it was in the evening, and Edith was much 
excited, “ you must go at once to your guardian, and 
leave him not again. He is very low, and during the 
last three days Lyon Hargrave has been with him most 

of the xi£) 3{ j jon bltsoo ti osswoo aft-' 

“ You speak, Edith, as though I had some great inter- 
est at stake of which I might be robbed.” 

The woman caught him by the arm, and fairly hissed 
into his ear, so concentrated was her feeling: 

“You do not know Lyon Hargrave as I know him. 
In all New York city I doubt if there is a den of iniquity 
in which he is not acquainted and well known. He 
went down to New York last night, and came back this 

morning. ”tioM .iM lot ofr mid boaxvbs dJib 3 .iioteM 

“ But, Edith, Mr. Hargrave knows Lyon as well as 

vhseri brm ^nidaim xlliw Jmireafi ar>w bfl£ 

“ Aye, but Walter Hargrave has been dying, and Lyon 
has engaged his weakening moments. Go at once, and 
see your guardian, and leave him not again, save to call 

me. .sfro/ vjoJ /1 o) j/tow 0100 M oo/noi 

Horace went, and found his friend very low indeed. 
“ My boy ! is it you ?” 

“ It is I, my more than father. I could not come 
sooner. The case did not come on until yesterday. 
But how is it with you ?” 

“ It is well, Horace. Sit down by my side. I want 
to tell you how they tried to make me believe that 
you were — But why should I tattle ? Sit down, my 

hoy.” fI i-rq j.jfi ) 0 ,-Mp.a'njy bus rftiid odi. oonod 

Horace drew a chair to the bedside, and sat down. 

“ My dear boy, tell them to be easy with Asher Mer- 
ton. I think he means well enough, but he is not 
strong. If I lived I should never press him. He is the 
father of Lily, and she is a blessed girl. Ah ! my boy, 
you know her ! Well, you both have my blessing ! 


The Spectre s Secret . 


H 


Come nearer, Horace, You remember your mother ? 
But you do not remember, for you do not know, the 
days when she and I were young. But you know what 
she told me with her dying speech, my boy, that she 
would be mine, and only mine, in the world to come ? 
You remember ?” 

“ Yes, dear guardian, I remember very well.” 

“ Bless you, my boy. Draw your seat nearer. Ah, 
my boy, I see shadows on your face. They flit across 
like clouds. But never mind. I doubt if my eyes are 
as good as they once were. Those same dark spots 
look all light now.” 

The sick man called for drink, and then asked Horace 
to g;o and call Edith. 

“ I have business,” he said, “and I want Edith pres- 
ent. I have great confidence in Edith. And you will 
confide in her, Horace — both you and Lily. She is a 
true woman, is Edith Somerby.” 

“ I know she is true and loyal to you, sir,” said the 
youth, warmly. “ She loves and reveres you.” 

“ Aye. She is a good girl. Go and call her. Say to 
her that I would see her at once.” 

Horace went as directed, and having found Edith, 
they returned together to the sick man’s chamber, 
where the housekeeper trimmed the lamp, and replen- 
ished the fire. Then she went to the bedside, and 
reported : 

“ I am here, good master.” 

“ Is it you, Edith ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Why do you leave me in the dark ?” 

“ Do you find it dark ?” 

“ Of course I do. Is it not night ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Then light the lamps.” 


A Shadow Upon Ingle side. 15 


Edith lighted two more lamps, and then asked Har- 
grave if he could see. He did not answer her at once, 
but after a time he put out his hands with a convulsive 
movement, and said : 

“ It is finished. Tell Clara I am coming !” 

And those were the last words he spoke. He passed 
away with a smile upon his face, as though he had 
smiled gratefully and lovingly upon some seraphic 
visitor. 

Both Edith and Horace were too stricken to do more 
than send for Mr. Merton, and then to keep order in the 
house. 

Mr. Asher Merton, with whom Horace had studied, 
and who was a lawyer of considerable ability, had been 
for years Mr. Hargrave’s attorney, and he came in on 
this evening to take charge of the papers, and put cer- 
tain books and documents under lock and key. 

It was after ten o’clock when the lawyer went away, 
and he left a young man named Stephen Cahill to 
watch in the library, through the night. 

“ I don’t know as there is any need of it,” he said to 
Edith, before he left, “ but it is well enough to have a 
watcher, and I didn’t think any of your folks would be 
in just the mood to do it. Stephen is not so bright as 
some, but he is faithful, and may be depended upon for 
keeping awake.” 

Edith afterwards remarked to Horace that she 
should have preferred a different watcher, but since 
Stephen Cahill had been set to the work, she did not 
care to object. 

It was midnight before Edith and Horace retired. 
Shortly before the midnight hour, while the young 
man was engaged in writing letters of the sad event to 
numerous friends of the deceased, his attention was 
called by his companion to a sound in the rear yard. 


i6 


The Spectre s Secret. 


a I have heard it twice before,” she said, “ and this 
time I heard it very plainly. Some one seems to be 
walking in the yard.” 

Horace got up and went to the window. Then he 
went to the back door, and stepped out upon the stoop. 
He saw nothing out of the way, and he heard nothing. 
He came back, and told Edith she must have heard the 
horses in the barn. But she did not think so. She 
fancied she had been long enough used to the sounds 
from the barn not to mistake them thus. Thereupon 
Horace smilingly replied that he would go out with a 
lantern after he had finished his letters, and take a care- 
ful survey. 

“ I will go out now, if you say so, Edith.” 

“ No,” she said, with a slight touch of doggedness in 
her tone. “ Don’t let my instincts influence you 
against your better judgment.” 

How slight a thing, how light a breath, will influence 
a man to turn the cold shoulder to the known good-will 
of his best friend. Had Edith hinted by even a smile 
that she would go out then and there with Horace 
Moore, he would have forsaken all else for the time 
required; but she showed a little pique, and he 
straightway, fool for the moment, answered with pique 
in his own bosom. And thus the light of the lantern 
was not brought to bear upon the darkness without at 
all that night. Had Horace gone out, as Edith had 
evidently wished, he might have found something that 
could have gone no further under that light, but which, 
in the permitted gloom, went on to a length which only 
uninterrupted villainy could have foreseen. 

As it was, Horace wrote on until after midnight, and 
then went out with his lantern. But he found nothing, 
and told Edith she might retire and sleep with assur- 
ance of safety. She bade him good- night in the old 


A Shadow Upon Ingleside. 


i/ 


pleasant way, but it was plain from her face that she 
was not easy. Upon the chamber stairs, as she after- 
ward confessed, she had more than half a mind to go 
back and bid Horace sit up himself and watch, but she 
thought better (or worse) of it, and went on. 

During the night strange noises were heard by other 
inmates of the house, and in the morning there was 
much questioning. And the groom and the cow-boy 
found heavy tracks in the yard and around the house — 
tracks which they could not legitimately account for ; 
but many people had come and gone on honest business 
during the night, and nothing could be made of it. On 
this morning Edith appeared sad and careworn ; but 
she said she had not been disturbed after she retired. 
Neither had Horace. 

Since the papers of the deceased were all under seal 
of a recognized attorney, no settlement of business was 
attempted until after the funeral. 

The funeral was held on Sunday, and great was the 
concourse attending. Many came up from New York, 
and many came down from Albany and Troy. And 
there were sincere mourners. Truly, a shadow was 
upon Ingleside — a darker shadow, in fact, than was 
generally thought. Not only was the good master 
dead, but many bright hopes were stricken in the 
event. 

On the following day, Monday, Mr. Merton sum- 
moned all interested to attend in the library of the 
mansion, he himself being accompanied by proper 
official witnesses. Horace Moore and Edith Somerby 
were there, and most of the household servants were 
present, as it was generally understood that all had 
been remembered in the dead man’s will. 

And also present was Lyon Hargrave, son and 
only child of Walter Hargrave’s brother, Thomas. 


IS 


The Spectre s Secret. 


Thomas had been a younger brother, and had died 
away from home. Walter had taken the orphan nephew 
so far under his charge as to send him to school, and 
pay all his expenses until he was twenty-one ; and after 
that he had set the young man up in business, promising 
to help him still further if he would help himself. But 
Lyon Hargrave would help himself only in the way of 
evil. His uncle having learned that his life in New 
York was simply the life of an abandoned gamester, and 
having sought in vain to reclaim him, let him go his 
way. Lyon was now five-and-twenty ; rather below 
the medium height and size ; with black hair and black 
eyes, and a sallow face inherited from an Italian mother, 
but possessing much grace and beauty of form and 
feature. But there was evil in his beauty, and there 
was danger in his grace. His eyes and his face were 
beautiful like the eyes and the gleaming face of the 
snake, and his bodily movements were not unlike the 
sinuous movements of the python. 

And when those immediately interested had been 
assembled, Mr. Merton removed his locks from the 
doors and the drawers of the deceased ; and when it is 
understood that property, real and personal, to the 
amount of a million dollars, hung in the balance, we 
shall not wonder that there was anxiety. 



CHAPTER II. 


OUTGROWINGS OF THE SHADOW. 

Of those present in the library of Ingleside while the 
attorney overhauled the private papers of the dead 
master, none were more nervous and eager than was 
Edith Somerby. There had been a cloud upon her from 
the first — a premonition of evil — which she could not 
shake off. Was it that she had, individually, great 
interests at stake, or was it from some cause more 
extraneous ? None could tell. She sat like a statue 
carved from marble, her hands closely clasped, and her 
lips bloodless from compression. 

So was Lyon Hargrave eager and anxious ; but 
he was not pale like Edith Somerby. He flushed and 
paled by turns, as though the blow which was to anni- 
hilate him might be suspended unseen. His hands 
were clasped and unclasped, and he sat like a hare 
watchful of the bay of the hounds, starting at a sound, 
and anon endeavoring to appear self-possessed. 

Horace Moore was nervous, but not as others were 
nervous. He seemed like one who felt out of place. 
In fact, he said to Edith, before entering, that he wished 
he could be legitimately and properly away. He felt 
like an interloper. Could he have been placed back one 
short month, and allowed to express his wish to his 

[19] 


20 


The Spectre's Secret . 


guardian, he would have said : “ Forget no one else in 
memory of me. Let not your bounty make me a mark 
for the scandal of the heartless and the thoughtless. 
Let me be self-sustaining.” He would have given up 
wealth ; but there was one thing he could not have so 
readily given up ; and because this latter thing became, 
unwillingly, a concomitant of the wealth, an influence 
was to operate upon his after-life which he might not 
otherwise have felt. 

Other eager faces were there — the faces of ser- 
vants who had served long and faithfully, and who felt 
sure they would be remembered. To such, a small sum 
would have been doubly a blessing — a blessing of 
memory from one whom they had loved and honored, 
and a blessing, indeed, upon the hard pathway of their 
toilsome life. 

At the end of half an hour spent by the attorney, with 
two of his assistants, he turned from his labors and 
spoke : 

“ My friends, I do not find a will. I doubt if Mr. 
Hargrave made one.” 

For a little time the silence of death reigned in the 
apartment. Edith Somerby was the first to speak. 
She did not rise, but sat erect and pale, with only the 
intense light of her eyes to reveal how deep were her 
feelings. 

“ Mr. Merton,” she said, “ do you not know that Walter 
Hargrave made a will ?” 

“ I know that he made several, Miss Somerby.” 

“ But he has made one within a year ?” 

“ Perhaps so.” 

“ And the witnesses thereto were men of your own 
selection ?” 

“ I had to call the witnesses, Miss, seeing that all the 


Out growings of the Shadow. 


21 


testator’s immediate friends were directly interested in 
the instrument.’* 

“ You have made no will for Mr. Hargrave since that 
time ?” 

“ I have not.’* 

“And you do not know that said will has been 
destroyed ?” 

“I know nothing about it. Mr. Hargrave was not 
in the habit of consulting me except he required my 
aid. The destroying of a will was very simple. There 
was no copy, and our friend had only to do what he 
pleased with his own.” 

“ But, sir, I ask you,” pursued Edith, a little color 
coming to her face, “would Walter Hargrave have 
willingly died intestate ?” 

“ That is a question I cannot answer, Miss Somerby.” 

“ But you should know, sir — you who did all his legal 
business. Had he not particular reasons for not wish- 
ing to pass away without leaving a will behind him ?” 

“ I certainly know of no such reasons,” answered the 
lawyer, crisply. 

Edith flushed to the eyes. 

“ You do know of such reasons, Mr. Merton. You 
know liow, in the absence of a will, all this property 
must go, and you know that Walter Hargrave had most 
particular reasons for not wishing it thus to go.” 

“ Miss Somerby,” said Merton, with judicial dignity, 
“ you are beside yourself. Perhaps,” he added, with an 
abortive attempt at a smile, “you dwell reluctantly 
upon your own loss.” 

Edith arose to her feet, and spoke with forced calm- 
ness ; though with deep and bitter feeling : 

. “ Mr Merton, you have no right to make that remark. 
If Walter Hargrave’s will is found, be sure my name 
will be found in it ; but I have not thought of myself 


22 


The Spectre s Secret. 


on this occasion. I have thought of others here around 
me. Of our good master’s bounty I have largely 
shared. Not so these true and faithful toilers who have 
borne the burden and heat of the day in his service. 
How will they be left ?” 

At this point Lyon Hargrave arose. Thus far he 
had sat like one who combats a foe he cannot see. As 
he arose he grasped the back of his chair for support, 
and a fierce wrath, arising from a cause long and deeply 
seated, gave him strength and steadiness. Ordinarily 
he was not weak, and only contending emotions of 
great power had now for the time unnerved him. 

“ Pending further search for my uncle’s will,” he 
said, “ let this matter rest as it should, in the hands of 
my uncle’s attorney. It has been asked if Mr. Hargrave 
would not have surely left a will could he have had his 
own way. I am not sure of that. We can afford, I 
think, to speak plainly. The whole thing hinges upon 
this single proposition : Would Walter Hargrave have 
left his wealth to his own flesh and blood, to the son of 
his own brother, or would he have set at defiance all 
known laws of consanguinity, and left his property to 
the offspring of a mere adventuress — a woman who 
tricked and betrayed him in his youth only to succeed 
in fooling him in his childish old age ? I know that the 
heart of the poor old man did for a season warm toward 
this interloper ; but I have reason to believe that he 
came at length to realize what an imbecile part he was 
acting. If you ask me how, when the shadow of death 
gave solemn import to his actions, Walter Hargrave 
would have knowingly and willingly acted, I tell you 
plainly he would have answered to the calls of those 
ties of blood which had been dear to him from his 
cradle. And you will permit me to say one thing more : 
Should fortune place this estate in my possession, let 


Outgrowings of the Shadow . 


- o 


the long-tried and faithful servants of Ingleside rest 
assured that generous remembrance shall be theirs. 
My uncle could not possibly have done more for them 
than I will do.” 

At this point Horace Moore, who had paled and 
flushed by turns, started to his feet, now pale as death, 
with his hands and his teeth firmly shut. But before 
he could speak Edith grasped him by the arm and 
pulled him back, and whispered something into his ear. 
What she whispered was simply a reminder to the 
youth that he was at present an utterly powerless 
nobody in the presence of august Law ; and she told 
him that his passions were more powerless than was he 
in his proper self. She advised him to remain silent. 

Lyon Hargrave, seeing the movement, assumed a 
smile, and addressed the assembled servants. 

“ My friends — you who have served my uncle — I 
may say to you that in the absence of a will the law 
will put me in charge of Ingleside, and I take this 
occasion, seeing that you are all together, to notify you 
that, so far as I have power, I retain you in service 
agreeably to my uncle’s later provisions, and in addi- 
tion thereto I shall claim the privilege of making you 
each a present of from three to five hundred dollars. 
Mr. Merton will understand and second my plan.” 

The male and female servants of Ingleside were not 
in the habit of deep thought. They had not been paid 
to think, and hence had not cultivated the accomplish- 
ment. This grand offer of Lyon Hargrave they could 
exactly understand and appreciate, and they liked it, as 
was manifest from their signs of happy approval. They 
were only human. They recognized the coming man, 
and rendered him homage accordingly. 

Horace Moore saw the signs, and as speedily as possi- 
ble he left the library. The whispered counsel of 


24 


The Spectre s Secret . 


Edith was not lost upon him. He knew himself well 
enough to know that if he remained and allowed him- 
self to speak, he should come to hard words with Lyon 
Hargrave ; and between him and the man who had 
descended to cast a slur upon his mother, there could 
have been but one result from such an altercation. In 
one of the small drawing-rooms, Edith met him, and 
laid her hand upon his shoulder. 

“ Horace, what will you do ?” she asked the question 
in fear and trembling. 

The youth stood for a moment in thought, and then 
answered, with a smile : 

“ Good Edith, I am a free man. If wrong has been 
done, I have not done it. I would rather be the sufferer 
than the doer of wrong ; but in this case I know not 
that I am even a sufferer.” 

“ Horace Moore, are you sincere ?” 

“ I speak to you, Edith, from the very heart of my 
heart. I will go and see Lily. She may have to wait 
for me a few years ; but joy will come at length. I 
know that Lily will be true. And I will go forth, young 
and strong, and do the battle as others have done it 
before me.” 

A shadow passed over Edith Somerby’s face, and 
Horace observed it. 

“ Do you doubt me ?” he asked. 

“ No, Horace, I doubt nothing. Let the future reveal 
its own secrets. If you feel strong, pray that your 
strength may not desert you. As for this business of 
the will, I know that a foul wrong has been done. I 
know that the will was in existence when you went to 
New York, for Mr. Hargrave spoke to me about it. He 
told me that he should leave great power in your hands, 
and that even I must look to you for a fulfilment of his 
wishes regarding myself. I know that evil has been 


Ontgrowings of the Shadozv . 


2 5 


done, but I know not how to unearth it. I do not think 
Mr. Merton would have lent himself directly to any 
wrong-doing ; but it is very plain to be seen that he is 
now in favor of Lyon Hargrave ; and I think I can see 
how he has been operated upon. He is in debt to this 
estate some thousands of dollars, and Lyon has intim- 
ated that in the event of his possession the debt shall be 
forgiven. The poor man does not know that you had 
directions to cancel that same debt. But, Horace, we 
must rest awhile. Be you careful, and keep clear of 
Lyon Hargrave. His mother was Italian, and he has 
dangerous blood in him. And he did not inherit a 
saintly spirit from his father. In truth, he is a bad man.” 

“Fear not, Edith. I will do all that may become a 
man, and I will do no more. And I promise you that I 
will not take any unwonted step without first consulting 
you.” 

They shook hands and separated. Horace regarded 
Edith Somerby as- a second mother, and she loved him 
as she might have loved a dear son or a brother. Her 
heart, which might have been given in warmer love, lay 
buried in the church-yard at Oxington. We say this 
because it was whispered at Ingleside that the house- 
keeper would have won the fair youth for herself if she 
could. But no such wish or thought ever entered her 
mind. No doubt she often said to herself — her softened 
eye many a time betrayed the emotion — that blessed 
would be the maiden who should wholly win him. She 
appreciated him thoroughly, and esteemed him highly. 


On the evening of this day there sat in the small par- 
lor of Mr. Merton’s residence a maiden who had been 
in tears. In years she was nineteen ; in stature just a 
perfect woman, such as Raphael might have selected for 


2 6 


The Spectre s Secret. 


his Madonna, or such as Phidias might have taken as a 
model for his virgin goddess Athena ; and yet there was 
superadded the warmth and grace of love and goodness. 
Down into her heart the artist might never have looked. 
Had he done so, he would have found it human, with 
much of the strength, and some of the weakness, which 
true women have inherited from the mother of all living. 
Her hair was a dark brown, wavy and tastefully 
arranged ; her brow was full, but not too high ; and her 
lower features, cut after the Grecian mould, were sym- 
metrical and beautiful in the extreme. A single shadow, 
the slightest line, can change the whole expression of a 
face ; and Lily Merton’s face might have been made 
into a proud and queenly face by some such touch. As 
it was, she possessed all the grace and beauty of the 
artist’s proud conception, with all the warmth and affec- 
tion of a true and loving woman. 

As Lily Merton sat by the centre-table, with her head 
resting upon her hand, her father entered the apartment 
— the same Asher Merton who is already known to us. 
He took a seat on the opposite side of the table from his 
daughter, and after a little pause, said : 

“ Lily, you have probably heard of the result of the 
examination into Walter Hargrave’s affairs ?” 

“ I have heard,” she answered, without looking up. 

“ Who told you ?” 

“ Horace.” 

“ Horace Moore ! Has he been here ?” 

“Yes. He went away only a short time since.” 

The attorney made a movement of impatience, but 
did not speak until the shadow was gone from his face. 

“ My child, I trust I may never have the heart to 
interfere with your true good and welfare ; and I trust 
you may never have the heart to crush and bruise your 
father.” 


Otitgrowings of the Shadow. 


27 


“ My father !” exclaimed Lily, under her breath, and 
with a look of unutterable surprise ; “ what do you 
mean ? I crush and bruise ! Surely, I do not under- 
stand you.” 

“ My dear Lily, truth is best spoken in few words, 
and perhaps I had better give to you briefly my thoughts 
on this occasion. In the first place, you are aware that 
I am in debt to the estate of Ingleside over six thousand 
dollars, for money advanced to me at various times by 
Mr. Hargrave. I tell you frankly, my child, the pay- 
ment of that sum would reduce me to utter penury. In 
fact, I cannot pay it. When I gave my countenance to 
the addresses you have received from Horace Moore, I 
regarded him as the adopted son and heir of Walter 
Hargrave ; but it is proved that he was not so. Lyon 
Hargrave is the heir, and he has become my client. So 
young Moore sinks at once to the position of an unknown 
adventurer.” 

Lily started up from her seat, and took a turn across 
the room. She clenched her hands until the nails of the 
fingers fairly eat into the palms, and her lips were com- 
pressed until they were bloodless. She could quell the 
storm that arose in her bosom, but she could not subdue 
the light that blazed in her resplendent eyes. 

Hush !” she said, when she finally stopped before 
her father. “ I am not fit to answer you now, and you 
are not fit to speak now upon this subject.” 

“ I have but ventured to speak to you a thought, my 
child.” 

“ Wait until it shall be known beyond a peradventure 
that there is no will before you assign relative places to 
the two men whom you have mentioned.” 

“ Ah, Lily, you must not borrow that hope, neither 
for yourself, nor for Horace Moore. I know very well 
that there is no will. In his sickness, when death was 


28 


The Spectre's Secret * 


near, Walter Hargrave put away all his old animosities, 
and took back to his love the sdn of his only brother. 
And then, he destroyed the will.” 

“ Do you know that he destroyed it ?” 

“ Of course I know it.” 

“ How r 

“ How ?” 

“ Yes, how ?” 

“ Why, there is no will to be found.” 

“ But there was a will not long since ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Then, how do you know, even if it be destroyed, 
that Walter Hargrave destroyed it ?” 

“ Because he had reason ; and I honor him for that 
reason. He had shut out all enmity from his heart, and 
was willing to bring back his own blood to revere his 
memory.” 

“ How do you know this ?” 

“ How do I know it ?” 

“ Aye. Did Walter Hargrave ever so much as whisper 
to you such a thing or thought ?” 

“ Lyon told me himself ; and it was told to Lyon.” 

“And yet, when you made Walter Hargrave’s will, 
you could not accept our good old curate and Christian 
teacher for years as a witness thereto, because he was 
interested as a legatee !” 

“ Lily !” 

“ But you can accept this monstrous assertion from 
Lyon Hargrave, whose very soul is at stake in the 
hazard of the die he is casting.” 

“ Lily !” 

“ I have spoken.” 

“But, Lily, my child, do you realize that we may 
both be in this man’s power ? If the will were to have 
been found I should have found it. As it now is, I 


Outgrowings of the Shadow . 


29 


say, there can be no will in existence. And, in the 
absence of such an instrument, Lyon Hargrave becomes 
sole possessor of Ingleside,* and, as master of Ingleside, 
we know that the time-honored custom of making him 
Justice of Oxington will not be departed from. Do you 
not see that he thus will have power? Be reasonable, 
my child, and let not Lyon hear the droppings of your 
prejudiced and careless tongue.” 

“ He shall hear nothing,” said Lily, with stern calm- 
ness, “ which he does not provoke. But, I warn you, 
my father, do not let him provoke me.” 

“ Lily, my child !” 

“ My father,” cried the maiden, rising again from 
the seat which she had. resumed, and standing erect in 
the majesty of her womanhood, “ you have spoken of 
Walter Hargrave’s heart. Do not suffer the expression 
to come so impiously from your lips again. Of his 
heart you know nothing. Of true manly heart Lyon 
Hargrave never knew. I know what Walter Har- 
grave’s heart was, and I know where it was. With my 
head pillowed upon his bosom he told to me the story. 
His grandest heart — the heart of celestial love — was 
buried with the mother of Horace Moore, and with her 
sainted spirit it arose to heaven ; and in heaven it will 
be his again. He did not lose it forever. The true 
heart is never lost. The instinct of God is in it, and 
its destiny must be final peace. But, oh ! how often do 
years of sorrow intervene between the loss and the 
reunion !” 

“ Lily !” 

“ Let us say no more, my father.” 

The maiden resumed her seat, and then continued : 

“ I do not wish to know what brought you hither at 
this time. We will say you only came to acquaint me 
with the result of your search for the will. So be it, 


30 


The Spectre's Secret . 


And now let me speak with you before you leave. Of 
Horace Moore we will say nothing. He is under a 
cloud, and deserves only sympathy. Of Lyon Hargrave 
I have this to say : Keep him for the present away from 
me.” 

“ Lily !” 

“ Can you not understand me ? Do you not know, of 
your own judicial wit, that Lyon Hargrave had better 
be kept away from me ?” 

Asher Merton looked upon the face of his daughter, 
and felt his own degraded weakness, and without 
another word, unless an entirely unnecessary staccato in 
the closing of the door could have been deemed such, 
he quitted the apartment. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE SERPENT SHOWS HIS FANGS. 

A week had elapsed from the day on which Mr. Mer- 
ton had first examined the papers left by the late mas- 
ter of Ingleside. All possible search had been made ; 
discussion had been held ,pro and con , and all interested 
had had, through invitation of the attorney, opportunity 
to present claims, or objections to claims. 

It was on another Monday evening, and Horace 
Moore and Edith Somerby sat in the old drawing-room 
of the mansion, where they had sat many an evening 
with the good old master, and it was to be their last 
evening together. 

The fiat of the surrogate had gone forth. Ingleside 
being so nearly related to the surrogate’s office through 
the official position of its late master, the office had, at 
the recommendation of Mr. Merton,- especially and expe- 
ditiously looked into the matter, and very comprehen- 
sive letters had been issued to Lyon Hargrave, 
Esquire, who was thereby not only empowered, but 
required to take possession forthwith, “that the rights 
and immunities of those dependent be not infringed.” 
So read the latter end of the document which came 
from the surrogate’s office, under a stupendous seal, 
to Lyon Hargrave, Esq. 

Horace and Edith sat together on that Monday 

[31] 




32 


The Spectre's Secret . 


evening, the twenty-first of December, and they knew 
that on the morrow they were to leave. The new mas- 
ter had informed Edith that he should no longer require 
her services, and he had bade Horace make his home at 
Ingleside as long as he pleased, saying, at the close of 
his permission : 

“ I will not turn adrift any poor waif whom my uncle 
chose to make the recipient of his bounty.” 

“ You see this,” said Horace, exhibiting to Edith the 
note he had received from Lyon Hargrave. 

“ I see it,” answered Edith, “ and I am glad to know 
that you have faithfully kept your promise to me. You 
have not met that man ?” 

“ Oh ! Edith, if you could know all the pain of strug- 
gle I have endured to be true to my promise, you would 
set me down as a saint. If I had not, one week ago, 
given you that solemn promise, I feel that Lyon Har- 
grave would not now be living.” 

“ Or you, Horace, which ?” 

“ As I say, Edith. Should that man ever meet me in 
open enmity, he would fall. I know it. He may over- 
come me in secret, as the serpent overcomes, but I 
should despise myself if I thought he could ever do it 
manfully. But let- that pass. I have not met him, and 
I do not mean to meet him. Thanks to the noble truth 
and heroic devotion of Lily, he has been shut out from 
her ; so I have not run aloul of him there.” 

“ And Lily — she is true ?” questioned Edith. 

“ As true as the needle to its mysterious attraction of 
the pole. She loves me, Edith, and that is all.” 

“ And that is enough !” said Edith Somerby, 
solemnly. “ If she loves you with the whole true 
woman, only death, or a near approach to death, can 
swerve her. As for her heart it can never be swerved. 
Oh, my brother, or my son, in this hour learn from me, 


The Serpent Shozvs His Fangs. 


33 


that the heart, the whole, God-given heart, of woman 
once given, can never be reclaimed — never ! Heaven 
may find it for a sainted loved one, but earth can never 
know it again.” 

After this Edith Somerby bowed her head upon her 
hands, and for a long time a solemn silence prevailed. 
It was at length broken by Horace : 

“ Dear Edith — I dare call you dear since you love me 
as I can be loved by one who is not to me a lover — 
dear to me by ties which claim all my gratitude, and 
all my holy reverence — reverence which I might have 
given a mother had she lived, and which I transferred 
to you when my guardian brought me hither — we are to 
separate on the morrow. What the future may bring 
for us we cannot tell, but I wish to say to you this : 
Let what will come, I shall always find joy and satisfac- 
tion in memory of your kindness to me. When I pray 
to God be sure you will not be forgotten.” 

“ The same thought of you is in my own mind, 
Horace ; and I shall pray earnestly. I am not yet 
prepared to believe that foul iniquity can forever 
triumph.” 

“ You are firm in the belief, then,” said the young 
man, trying to smile,” that wrong has been done ?” 

“ Aye, Horace, I feel it ; I know it. Ah ! could we 
get at the secret of that night when we heard the 
noises in the yard, we should know more than we know 
now.” 

“ Why do you let that thought trouble you ?” 

“ It does not trouble me, and yet it occupies my mind. 
But we will say no more about it. If, in the time to 
come, we are to know more than we now know, I trust 
the knowledge may have the quality to make us grate- 
ful. And now, Horace, whither do you turn you 


34 


The Spectre s Secret . 


steps? My advice is, that you enter into the practice 
of your profession.” 

“ You mean law ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ No, Edith. I prefer the sea ; and I feel that I am 
a better sailor than lawyer. My opportunity is good. 
I have been promised the position of second mate on 
board one of the finest ships sailing out of New York. 
We are going to India. An old and dear friend of my 
guardian owns the ship, and through his favor I gain 
the place.” 

“ Then you are determined in this respect ?” 

“ To go to sea, yes.” 

“ So be it. We shall meet again before you sail ?” 

“ Yes, Edith. I will come to your father’s house.” 

“ I may have something to communicate.” 

They conversed awhile longer, and then separated. 

On the following morning, Edith Somerby took the 
stage-coach for her home, and Horace Moore went out 
and took a room for a few days at a hotel in Oxington ; 
and before noon, Lyon Hargrave had entered upon the 
premises as master of Ingleside, with no power appar- 
ent to dispute his possession. He did not hold up his 
head proudly when he entered the old mansion ; but he 
cast sidelong glances at the servants, and his first call, 
when he had seated himself, was for brandy. 

On Wednesday evening Horace Moore called at Mr. 
Merton’s, and was admitted to Lily’s presence. 

The attorney was away at Ingleside. He had not 
seen Horace since Monday, but he knew that the youth 
had planned to go to sea, and he had chosen to make 
no demonstration of his real intention until the object 
of his dislike had gone. At heart, Asher Merton was 
not bad. He was not positive in quality, anyway. 
Had Horace Moore been master of Ingleside he would 


The Serpent Shows His Fangs , 


35 


have preferred him for a husband to his daughter, but 
since Lyon Hargrave was the fortunate possessor, he 
was willing to give the hand of his child in that direction. 
In fact, he had promised Lyon that the girl should be 
his. 

“ Don’t make haste,” said Lyon. “ Don’t frighten 
the girl. I can wait. When this interloper is out of 
the way she may be induced to perform a duty which 
she must see is incumbent upon her — the duty of sus- 
taining her father.” 

And on this very evening Lyon Hargrave and Asher 
Merton sat over their wine and planned for the desired 
consummation. 

Meantime Horace Moore was taking leave of his love. 
He was to go to New York on the morrow, and it might 
be many months before they met again. 

“ Lily,” spoke the young man, holding her hand and 
gazing tenderly into her beautiful face, “ I am grasping 
and selfish enough to accept the pledge you offer. I 
know that when your father smiled approvingly upon 
our love he regarded me as the heir of Ingleside ; and 
you, too, had — ” 

“ Hush !” interrupted the girl, raising her hand with 
reproving gesture. “ No matter what we then thought 
of Ingleside. It was not Ingleside I loved. I loved you, 
my darling, and I love you only more now than I loved 
you then. I will wait for you till the end of time, if 
need be. At first I would have preferred that you 
should select law as a profession, and remain near me ; 
but I have come to feel that it is better as it is. Do you 
know, Horace, I think I shall love you all the better 
when you are far away ? O ! who has said that absence 
can conquer love ? The truth was not in the man who 
said so. True love, my darling, must grow stronger 
and deeper in absence. O ! don’t you feel so ?” 


The Spectre s Secret . 


36 


“ Blessed one !” cried Horace, taking her to his 
bosom, “ I have no words to speak the love I feel, the 
love that can never die, the love that is to me the crown 
of my life. When I am away I shall wear your dear 
image in my mind always. I have spent years upon 
the trackless deep, and in those times I wore the image 
of my mother as the mystic charm of the hard life. She 
was a good woman, Lily, a blessed woman, but she was 
never wholly happy. You have heard the story.” 

“Yes,” said Lily, with moistening eyes. “And I 
think I can feel in fancy all that she felt in fact. Oh, 
what if, in the belief that you were dead, I should be 
dragged into marriage with another, and in the end 
should know that you lived ? O ! horrible !” 

“ Lily !” 

“ Darling !” 

And so they talked far into the evening, and at length 
the hour for parting came. They did not know, as they 
stood in the hall, that they were watched — that a pair 
of fiery eyes was upon them, and a pair of unscrupulous 
ears open to their words. 

“ It must be a full year, darling, before we meet 
again ; but our love will bear us company. The width 
of oceans cannot hold our hearts asunder. I go to 
New York in the morning, and I shall not return. I 
will write to you before I sail, and you will write to 
me.” 

A kiss, and a blessing, a few murmured words from 
heart to heart, and they separated. 

Horace Moore walked to his hotel, and shortly after- 
wards Lyon Hargrave left the dwelling of the attorney, 
and went to Ingleside. 

Hargrave entered the library, where lights were 
burning, and paced to and fro for some time. The 
clock upon the mantel told him it was half-past eleven. 


The Serpent Shows His Fangs. 


37 


“ I raust go to New York/’ he said, to himself, “ and 
I must be there before him.” 

A few more turns, and he called a servant, and 
directed him to saddle two horses and bring them to 
the door. 

“ I want you to go with me to the landing,” he said, 
“ and return with the horses. I have received important 
word from New York, and must be in the city to-morrow 
morning. I think we can catch the night boat from 
Albany ?” 

“Yes, sir, plenty of time for that, if the ice lets the 
boats run.” 

“ There is no ice at all in the river yet. You may 
bring the horses, and you may say to those who inquire 
that business has called me away.” 

Lyon reached the landing at Oxington in season 
for the boat, and was in New York in the morning. 
He crossed the city to the East River side, and entered a 
den known as “ The Foul Anchor.” It was foul enough, 
goodness knows, and the signs of the morning told that 
there had been late drinking, and hard, through the 
night. The new-comer was known in the place, and 
was permitted to pass through into the rear parlor, 
where the keeper joined him. 

“ I want to find Sugg Witkill,” said Hargrave. 

“ You’re on his track, old fellow. He was here last 
night, and can’t be far away.” 

“ Is Molly here ?” 

“Yes.” 

« Then let her go and find him. If she will bring him 
to me in an hour I will give her a dollar.” 

The woman thus alluded to set forth on her mission, 
and in less than half an hour returned with the object 
of her search, who was at once introduced into the 
parlor. 


38 


The Spectre s Secret . 


Mr. Sugg Witkiil was a man thirty years of age ; of 
medium size ; slouchy but strong in his build ; with a 
keen black eye ; a face angular and strongly marked ; 
and not, at first sight, particularly ill-looking. The 
broken nose, and the seams and scars otherwheres, 
would seem to indicate that his life had been a tough 
one ; and when you had heard him speak, and had 
watched the play of his features under the working of 
his thoughts, you would have been apt to set him down 
as a man who could be very wicked — a man dangerous 
and crafty. He nodded respectfully as he entered the 
parlor, but when the host had gone, his face took a more 
familiar look. 

“ How now, old fellow ? What has called you on this 
night trip ?” 

“ I want to see you alone, Sugg.” 

“ Then I guess you’d better come to my room. I’ve 
got quarters on South street. We can be quiet as the 
grave there.” 

So to Sugg’s room on South street they went. It was 
not an inviting place for comfort, but it was inviting 
enough for Lyon Hargrave’s present purpose. At the 
suggestion of the host — for so Sugg styled himself — 
brandy and sugar and hot water were produced, and 
when a couple of hot toddies had been disposed of, the 
master of the quiet retreat signified that he was ready 
for business. 

“ And,” he added, with a significant wink, “ only very 
important business could have called you away from 
Ingleside in this fashion. I hope nothing has gone amiss 
yet ?” 

“ Nothing, Sugg.” 

“ There hain’t any sign of the will turned up yet ?’* 

“ No. I think it was burned.” 

“ I’m sure it was. I can take my oath of it,” = 


39 


The Serpent Shows His Fangs. 


“ Are you serious, Sugg ? Do you really and honestly 
believe the fire took it ?” 

“ Why, bless you ! how could it have been otherwise ? 
Wasn’t I at the fire ? a good fire, too, burning in the 
open fire-place. It’s ashes entirely. Set that down for 
a fact.” 

“ Really, Sugg, I think it must have been so. But 
enough of this. I don’t care to think of it. Both you 
and Matt must have been drunk — ” 

“ Lyon, my boy, we know what we know. My soul ! 
I don’t never want such another dose as that was.” 

“ No offence, Sugg. Let it pass. And now, look ye. 
Do you know the ship Speedwell ?" 

“ Of course I know her. She lays within a stone’s 
throw of where we now sit. And she’s a beauty.” 

“ Sugg, Horace Moore is going out in that ship as 
second-mate. While he lives I can never feel entirely 
safe. I don’t know exactly how much he knows of the 
will, nor do I know what his plans in that direction may 
be ; but he has an attraction in old Merton’s daughter 
which will bind him to the neighborhood of Ingleside. 
And, furthermore, while he is living, and liable at any 
time to drop down upon the old place, he has a friend 
in Edith Somerby, who is to be feared. That woman 
suspects me. She has shown it plainly ; and I dare not 
attempt to buy her off. With Horace Moore out of our 
way, that knot is cut. Now, what have you to bind you 
to New York ? If you will ship on board the Speedwell 
I will make it a good thing for you.” 

“ Go on,” nodded Sugg, without a sign to show his 
thought. 

“ The ship is bound for the East Indies,” pursued 
Lyon, “and in the months that cover the voyage, you 
will easily find means to give the young man his drop 
from the stage.” 


40 


The Spectre s Secret . 


“ That's poetical.” 

“ Aye, Sugg, and I'll set the poetry to a handsome 
tune if you will undertake the work.” 

Sugg Witkill had set the dish of water upon the stove, 
where it had kept hot. He brewed another toddy, and 
when he had drunk it, he said : 

“ Now look’e, old fellow, I am going to talk honest. 
I would as lief be away from New York awhile as not. 
In fact, it might be for my interest to leave. But 
aboard that ship there will be hard work.” 

“ For which you shall be amply paid.” 

“ Say, about how much ?’* 

“ Set your own price.” 

“ Then, let us call it a thousand dollars down, and two 
thousand when I come back and tell you that Horace 
Moore is dropped. How’s that ?” 

“ Sugg, will you do it ?” 

“ I will. That is, I'll try. We don’t know yet as I 
can get shipped.” 

“I wish I dared to help you in that direction ; but I 
think I had better not. But there can be no doubt. I 
saw the owner’s advertisement this morning. The ship- 
ping list is still open.” 

“ Look’e, Lyon ; you just stay right where you are till 
I go out and see. Don’t you feel like taking a nap ?” 

“ I haven’t slept for four-and-twenty hours.” 

“ Then camp on my bed, and wait until I come back. 
I’ll ship on board the Speedwell if the thing is possible. 
And I rather like it, too.” 

Lyon was shown the bed, and Sugg went out upon 
his mission. 

An hour passed. Lyon Hargrave lay upon the bed, 
but he did not sleep. At the end of the hour Witkill 
came back with a gleam of satisfaction upon his battered 
visage. 


The Serpent Shows His Fangs . 


4 [ 


“ Keno !” said he, as he closed the door behind him. 

“ You have done it, Sugg?” 

“ Hold on. I am dry.'* 

Sugg found the water hot, and having made and drunk 
another toddy he sat down and reported. 

“ All right, old boy. I am shipped on board the Speed- 
well. Seamen just now are not plenty. I had no diffi- 
culty at all. And there’s room for more. Now say, I 
think I will take my thousand dollars with me. There 
may be a chance to turn it over in Calcutta.” 

“ How will you carry it ?” 

“ I shall find a way.” 

“ But how will you account for its possession ?” 

“ Oh, bless you ! that is nothing. I shall call it the 
fortunate turn of the cards. That is not a great sum to 
win.” 

“ As you please, Sugg. You shall have the money 
to-night. And now, my boy, you have your work before 
you. It will not be difficult.” 

“ Lyon Hargrave, don’t you borrow one bit of trouble. 
Men often fall overboard at sea ; and I have heard of 
cases where they went over at night, nobody could tell 
how. Put your hand there.” 

Lyon gave his hand. 

“You will be true to me, and I’ll be true to you. 
Horace Moore will not come home in the Speedwell! 
You can set that down as a fixed fact.” 

“ Sugg, you and I must be true to each other. We 
have worked too much in company to be otherwise. I 
shall see you off. Do you know when the ship sails ?” 

“ As soon as she can get off. I am to report for duty 
on Monday.” 

“ Then on Monday I will come down again. I will 
meet you here.” 

“ All right. But about the money ?” 


42 The Spectre s Secret. 


“ I will bring it here this afternoon. When will you 
meet me ?” 

“ Call at two o'clock.” 

And at two o’clock Lyon Hargrave paid into Sugg 
Witkill’s hand one thousand dollars. And he thought 
it a good investment. He felt sure of his man. He had 
known Witkill for years, and in many ways, and he had 
not a shadow of doubt that the man would keep his 
word. And in the keeping of that word a safe removal 
would be made of the one man who might possibly 
stand between him and Ingleside. When he took the 
boat for the return he felt relieved of a burden. The 
weight of the crime he did not feel at all. He only 
knew fear in thought of the possible detection of another 
crime. Once launched as he had launched, and the 
great need was to cover up tracks that might betray. 
In following his own selfish ends he cared not what 
might be the cost of suffering, of wrong, or even of life 
itself, to others. 




CHAPTER IV. 

MATT BUNGO. 

On Thursday Horace Moore went to New York, and 
late in the afternoon he went on board the Speedwell, 
where he chanced to meet the captain, who had come 
on board not two minutes previously, and who had not 
calculated upon remaining beyond the time required for 
depositing a package in his room. 

Captain John Percy was the man, and a fine specimen 
of the true Yankee sailor he was. He was not a heavy 
man ; but what he lost in bulk he more than made up 
in fineness of quality. He was quick, active and ener- 
getic, with his wits always in the ascendant. He had 
light, wavy hair ; light blue eyes ; and a mild, handsome 
face. He was a good seaman, an accomplished naviga- 
tor, and a safe master ; and, moreover, he could justly 
estimate and appreciate a true man, and treat him 
accordingly. 

“ Ah, Mr. Moore, I am glad to have hit you. I will 
go back into the cabin with you. . Have you come to 
report for duty ?” 

“ As I promised, yes, sir.” 

“ I am glad, for I wish to-morrow to go to Philadel- 
phia, and I want one of my own officers here to examine 
those who may apply for berths. Our complement of 
men is not quite complete. We can, of course, at any 
time, draw on our shipper. He has candidates in plenty, 

[ 43 ] 


44 


The Spectre s Secret. 


such as they are. But I want a few more able seamen. 
I shipped a man this afternoon, not exactly such a man 
as I would have preferred, but a competent seaman. I 
think I may trust you to examine any who may apply ?” 

“ I don't think a man could deceive me with regard 
to his knowledge of seamanship, sir. But touching 
moral qualifications — ” 

“As to that," broke in the captain, “all applicants 
must pass muster at the office of the owner before they 
come here. Our advertisement gives that direction. 
Yet you will exercise your own judgment on all points. 
And now, if you are ready for duty, I must get you to 
run up town, and see Mr. Dwinal. He is stopping with 
his daughter in Chelsea. Letters have come in to-day 
which he ought to see, and we want his orders. You 
can take a carriage. I think you know the way ?” 

“Yes. I have been there." 

Captain Percy arranged the business as he would have 
it delivered to Mr. Dwinal, and then went with his 
officer on deck, remarking, as they separated : 

“ You will return this evening, and take charge of the 
ship until I get back. Mr. Huxton will not be here 
before Monday." 

Horace walked up to the Hook, and there took a sad- 
dle-horse. He found Mr. Dwinal in a pretty cottage, 
with quite a milk-farm attached, in a rural suburb of 
that day, which has since given place to the onward 
flow of brick and mortar, and which must have been not 
far from the spot now marked by the junction of Ninth 
Avenue and Twenty-ninth street. 

Not far up town, is it ? Really in the heart of the city. 
And yet, in 1840, when the middle-aged man of to-day 
was just entering upon his manful life, that spot was 
far away from the city’s busy tide — really and truly in 
the country. 


45 


Matt Bungo . 


Mr. Alfred Dwinal was one of the oldest of the Man- 
hattan merchants, and principal owner of the Speedwell. 
He received the youthful officer kindly, and when the 
business had been done he insisted that Horace should 
stop to tea ; and after tea he gathered from his guest 
the story of the late events at Ingteside. 

“ My dear boy,” he said, when the whole had been 
told, “ I know Lyon Hargrave. His uncle once got him 
a situation in a house in which I was silently interested. 
He proved himself a rascal, and I know that Walter 
Hargrave paid some thousands of dollars to shield him 
from the law. Believe me, if he has come by treachery 
into this possession, he cannot prosper.” 

“ Mr. Dwinal,” returned our hero, with a smile that 
was full of manly strength, “ I know that I have the 
sympathy of all good men who know me ; but I tell you 
truly that I would not exchange places with Lyon Har- 
grave, even were he clear of crime in this matter of his 
uncle’s will. I have really nothing to complain of. I 
have health, strength and a profession ; and if I prove 
myself deserving of friends, I believe I shall find them.” 

“ Right, my boy. Lay the foundations deep and 
strong in truth and honor, and the super-structure of 
manhood’s life will be blessed. I am glad you came up 
this evening. I shall feel better in the knowledge of 
the character of my officers. In Captain Percy you 
will find a true and reliable friend. He is not only a 
good sailor, but he is a good man.” 

And so they pleasantly conversed until the shadows 
of evening drew on, and at an hour later than he had 
anticipated Horace set forth on his return. The air was 
damp and chill, and he put his horse over the road at a 
swift pace ; or, rather, he allowed his horse to pace as 
he pleased, and as the pacing was homeward, it was 
willingly energetic. He gave up the horse in Cherry 


4 6 


The Spectre s Secret . 


street, and struck thence on foot down into South street. 
It was now late in the evening, and very dark. Gas- 
lights in the by-ways of the great city were not then 
plenty. Horace had stepped from the sidewalk 
into the street to allow the passage of a noisy crew of 
drunken men, and as they stopped in a wrangle at that 
point, he crossed over upon the side of the docks. He 
was picking his way along upon a narrow and dilapidated 
plank walk when a smothered cry for help attracted 
his attention. He stopped and listened, and made sure 
that a fellow-creature was calling for aid in a narrow 
pass between a boat-house and a fish-house. 

“ Help ! help ! Don’t, for Heaven’s sake, kill me !” 
were the words which the young man heard distinctly. 

It was not in his nature to think of danger to him- 
self with such a cry sounding in his ears. Turning into 
the narrow passage with a bound, he quickly came to 
an open space beneath the wooden awning of an empty 
fish-stall, where he saw three men, and the faint gleam- 
ing of an oil dock-lamp near at hand enabled him to 
take in the situation at a glance. Two of the men had 
a third beneath them, and they were either killing him, 
or robbing him, or both. Horace did not stop for closer 
examination. With a cry of wrath he smote the head 
of the man nearest to him with his foot, and the second 
he struck under the left ear with his clenched fist. The 
first man had started to his feet, with a knife in his 
hand, when Horace leveled him again. His soul was 
in arms, and he had the two villains at a disadvantage. 
He knocked them back several times, all the while call- 
ing for help. And help finally came, not from officers 
of the law, but from three men who came clambering 
up from a boat that had just put into the dock. They 
were three sailors, and with their assistance the two 


Matt Bungo. 


4 7 


ruffians were secured, after which Horace assisted the 
third man to his feet. 

“Are you hurt, my man ?” our hero asked. 

The man shook himself, and pressed his hand upon 
his brow, and finally, like one just assured of sense and 
life, he answered : 

“ I don’t think they’ve hurt me ; but they’d have 
done for me precious quick if you hadn’t come up. 
You have saved my life, mate, and I hope I may some 
time do you a good turn.” 

“ But what will you do now ? What was the occasion 
of this quarrel ?” 

“ It wasn’t a quarrel, mate. We’ve been at the sweat- 
cloth to-night, and I won them coves’ money, and they 
concluded they wanted it back again. If they’d been 
sober they wouldn’t ’ave done that thing.” 

Thereupon Horace turned to the two men, whom the 
boatmen had still in charge, and asked what they had 
to say. 

“ It’s just as that man says, sir. If you’ll let us go, we 
won’t trouble him again for this bout. But he mustn’t 
throw loaded dice against us again. It’s lucky you 
come up as you did. I’ve got a sore head from your 
fist, but I’d rather have that than have blood on my 
hands.” 

After consultation with the boatmen Horace arranged 
that he would lead the attacked man away, and that 
they should detain the other two for a few minutes at 
least. The rescued man went quickly with the youth, 
and as he was lame, and felt the smart of a cut on his 
shoulder, it was thought advisable that they should seek 
some place where necessary assistance could be had. 
“ If you’ll go with me,” said the sufferer, “ I know just 
the place close by.” 

“ I will stick by you, my friend, until I see you safe,” 


48 


The Spectre s Secret. 


said Horace, cheerfully. “ I won’t leave my work half 
done.” 

“ You’re a good man, whoever you be,” ejaculated 
the waif, prefacing the remark with a strong oath ; 
“ and you’ve taken all this trouble for a mighty poor 
stick.” 

“ Don’t you think your life was in danger when I 
came to your relief ?” 

“ In danger ? Why bless you ! I hadn’t got any life 
just then. They’d got me down, and one of ’em had 
his knife up. I tell you, mate, my life is yours.” 

“ Then, my brother,” said Horace, solemnly, “ let me 
direct it into better paths henceforth.” 

“ Ah ! it’s hard to learn an old dog new tricks.” 

“ Not if his heart is in the right place.” 

“ Eh ?” 

“ You have a heart, my brother, and I believe there 
is an immense amount of good in it. It is only a 
question of which you will use — the good or the bad.” 

“ Ah, if I could only wipe out — But here’s our 
haven. If you’ll take me in here I’ll be cared for.” 

They had come in front of a public house, and over 
the entrance Horace saw an illuminated sign of “ The 
Foul Anchor.” 

“ Let’s go around by the back way, mate. There’s 
two holes here, and they’re handy sometimes. I’ll show 
you.” 

The man turned aside from the main entrance, and 
found a low, narrow archway, at the far end of which 
his hand found a bell-pull which was hidden from 
sight. In answer to the summons, a door in the flat 
wall was partially opened, and a voice asked who was 
there. The waif put his lips close and whispered some- 
thing in reply, whereupon the door was opened wide, 
and the two were permitted to enter. 


Matt B lingo. 


49 


“ How now, Matt ?” asked the Cerberus of the place, 
when they had reached a small apartment in which a 
hanging lamp was burning. 

“ All right, my boy. I’m in funds, but have been 
caught in the Swifts. This gentleman set me free, and 
I want to see him alone, if it’s all the same to you.” 

“ Certainly. If you want anything, you can call. 
We are busy in front.” 

And the din, like the din of a bedlam, which came from 
apartments not far distant, plainly indicated that some- 
body must have been very busy. 

“ You may bring me a bottle of brandy, Jo, the best.” 

The brandy was brought, and when the waif had seen 
the door finally closed behind Cerberus, he turned to 
offer the bottle first to his companion. As he did so, 
he caught the first fair look at the handsome young 
face. With a deep gasp he set the bottle upon his knee, 
and took another look. 

“ Are you Horace Moore ?” he asked, in. a whisper. 

“ I am,” answered the youth, in surprise. “ Do you 
know me ?” 

“ You don’t know me ?” 

Horace looked, apd saw a man of powerful frame, 
with a broad, pock-marked face, a full, sandy beard, 
broad-shouldered and deep-chested, and evidently not 
far from five-and-thirty years of age. 

“ I don’t know you,” he said, “ but I think I have 
seen you before.” 

“ Where ?” 

“ At the boat-landing of Oxington.” 

“ Very likely. I often go up the river. You can 
understand what should call me up that way.” 

“ How should I ?” 

“ If I must own the truth, I should say — cards. I 

have lived in that way. But, I saw you. Yes, very 


50 


The Spectre's Secret. 


likely at the same time. Your face is not one to for- 
get. But suppose we look at this cut on my shoulder ? 
Will you try a drop of the brandy ? I know it is the 
pure article.” 

Horace was wet and cold, and had been subjected to 
considerable strain of nerve, and he did not refuse a 
small quantity of the brandy. The waif helped himself 
more liberally, after which the wounds were looked to ; 
but they were found to be very slight — nothing requir- 
ing more than bathing and simple swathing. 

“ And now,” said Horace, as he arose to depart, “ if 
you wish to report to me on the morrow, you will find 
me on board the ship Speedwell." 

“ Do you belong to her ?” 

“ I am her second officer.” 

“ All right. Thank you.” 

“ And now, may I know your name, my friend ?” 

“ Yes,” said the man, after a little hesitation, “ you 
may know it, but I’d ask you as a favor not to use it, 
leastways, not at present. My name is Matt Bungo. 
Did you ever hear it before ?” 

“ The name is not entirely strange to me,” answered 
Horace, reflecting, “ yet I cannot tell how nor where I 
have heard it.” 

“ Never mind. You may have seen it in the sporting 
reports, and you may have seen it in the police reports. 
You say you are going to sea in the Speedwell l" 

“ Yes.” 

“ Well, mate, I’ll see you before you sail, if it’s only to 
let you know that I am alive and well. I can’t thank 
you to-night for what you’ve done. My mind isn’t 
quite clear.” 

“ All right, Matt. Just take care of the life, and make it 
of some use in the world, and I shall be amply rewarded. 
Will you show me the way out ?” 


Matt Bungo. 


5 * 


Matt Bungo piloted the young man to the street, and 
there bade him good-night. He had turned and 
regained the door which he had left ajar in the flat wall, 
when he heard a quick step behind him. He looked 
back, and saw what looked like a female garb. 

“ Who are you ?” he asked. 

“ Ha ! is it you, Matt ?” 

“ Molly ?” 

“ Molly Dowd, the same.” 

“ Come in, if you will.” 

The woman followed him into the little parlor. She 
was not an ill-looking woman, when she came into the 
light ; but she was outcast and a sufferer. 

“ What is that in the bottle, Matt ?” 

“ Brandy — and good.” 

“ May I have some ?” 

“ Yes, Molly.” 

The woman drank, and then the man asked : 

“ Have you got any money, Molly ?” 

“ A few shillings, Matt. I earned a dollar this morn- 
ing.” 

“ How ?” 

“ Hunting up Sugg.” 

“ Eh ? What is Sugg up to now ? Who wanted 
him ?” 

“ Lyon Hargrave wanted him.” 

“ For what ?” 

“ I don’t know. I only know that Lyon came down 
in the night boat, and his first and only business seemed 
to be with Sugg Witkill. And— D’ye mind my taking 
just another drop ?” 

“ No, Molly, take what you want.” 

“ This is the only water that can put out the fire, 
Matt.” 


52 


The Spectre s Secret. 


“ Or, Molly, is it a fire so much more fierce that it 
makes you forget the other ?” 

“ No ! no ! ten thousand times no ! This is heaven, 
Matt, compared with the old fire. I’m a fool ! But let 
it pass. It’s my opinion, Matt, that Sugg has got a 
big job ; and I think he’s got big pay. He told me this 
afternoon, that he’d do the handsome thing for me 
before he went away.” 

“ Is he going away ?” 

“Yes. He has shipped for a voyage to India.” 

“ Eh ? To India ? Is it on board the Speedwell ?" 

“Yes.” 

Matt Bungo shut his mouth, and shut his hands. 
Then he laughed a low laugh, and said : 

“ Come, Molly, let us drink to his success on the 
voyage.” 

The woman drank readily. 

“ So Sugg has shipped ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ On board the Speedwell ?" 

“ Yes.” 

“ Do you imagine that Lyon Hargrave had anything 
to do with his shipping ?” 

“Of course I imagine so. There’s been something 
done that must be covered up, and Sugg’s got to get 
out of the way to do it.” 

“ Molly, you are smart.” 

“ I am smart enough to see that.” 

“ But you can’t see that I may have to get out of the 
way, too ?” 

“ You, Matt ?” 

“Yes. I’ve had trouble this very night, came near 
having my heart pricked. Yes, Molly, I may be off as 
well as Sugg. But, girl, let it be a secret between you 
and me. Here, I haven’t much to spare, but I’ll divy 


Matt Bungo. 


53 


with you. Here are twenty dollars. They’ll help you 
a little.” 

“ Matt !” 

“ It’s all right, girl ; only I want you to promise me 
one thing : You won’t breathe to a human being that 
you have met me here to-night ?” 

“I promise, Matt.” 

“ And you will never whisper that you have men- 
tioned Sugg’s name to me in any way or shape ?” 

“ I promise, solemnly.” 

“ All right, Molly. Now go before you are found 
here with me. You can go out and come in by the 
front way. Will you do it ?” 

“ But this money, Matt ? I do not want so much.” 

“ Keep it, Molly, and may yon get good from it. 
Now go.” 

“ I shall see you again, Matt ?” 

“ Yes ; but remember, let us meet when or where we 
will, the meeting of this night is as though it had never 
been.” 

“ It shall be so.” 

“ That is enough. Now go.” 

The woman drank more of the brandy, and then 
went out, and when she had had time to get well away, 
Bungo pulled the soiled and frayed bell-cord that hung 
in a corner of the room. Cerberus answered the sum- 
mons. 

“ Well, Jo, I’ve got through with my friend, and I 
think I’ll slip around to my old quarters and take a 
nap. I’ve had a bit of a shaking up to-night.” 

“ I thought you looked rather tumbled when you 
came in.” 

“ So I was ; but I am all right now. What’s the bill ?’* 

Jo lifted the bottle and nodded significantly. 

“ If there’s a drop left you may drink it.” 


54 


The Spectre s Secret. 


Jo finished the bottle, after which Matt paid the 
reckoning and departed. 

In the open street Matt Bungo stopped and looked up 
at the stars. Then he walked down to one of the slips, 
and out upon a pier where a heavy ship lay moored. 
As he stood where the light of a gas-jet gleamed upon 
him, there was revealed a new look in his face. It was 
not much in form — not a great change in outward look 
— but it had brought a new spirit to the surface. Was 
it the light of the better life of which he who had that 
night saved it had spoken ? 



CHAPTER V. 

A SHADOW ON SHIPBOARD. 

On the morning following the events last recorded, 
Horace Moore assumed command of the ship as the 
superior officer present, and he was not long in showing 
to both sailors and stevedores that he understood his 
business. Educated in the service of the British East 
India Company, he had mastered the science of stowing a 
cargo in its minutest details, and with a passionate love 
of the sea, he had taken kindly and naturally to seaman- 
ship. Towards the middle of the forenoon, while 
engaged in taking on board a lot of agricultural imple- 
ments, the young officer felt a touch upon the shoulder, 
and, on turning, he beheld Matt Bungo, but not exactly 
the Matt Bungo of the previous night. This man was 
cleanly washed and shaved ; was dressed in a neat and 
tidy seaman’s garb ; and the light of his blue eyes really 
invited confidence. He looked rough and hard, but of 
true metal. 

“ When you are at leisure, sir, I would like to speak 
with you.” 

“ I will be at leisure in a very short time. Let me 
see this invoice clear.” 

In a little while, Mr. Moore turned over the work to a 
subordinate, and then signified to his visitor that he 
might follow him ; and he led the way to the cabin. 

[55J 




56 


The Spectre s Secret. 


“ Well, my good man,” said Horace, as soon as they 
were seated, “ I am glad to see you looking so well to- 
day.” 

“ And I am glad to be feeling well,” said Matt. “ All 
of which I owe to you.” 

“ And all of which,” added the youth, with a smile, 
“ gives me as much real satisfaction as it does you.” 

Matt moved uneasily in his seat. 

‘‘ Can I be of further service ?” Horace asked, observ- 
ing that his visitor was at a loss for words. 

“ Yes, sir, you can,” said Matt, bluntly. “ I want to 
go to sea with you, in this ship.” 

“ Honestly, my man ?” 

“ I never was more honest, nor more earnest. I can 
hand, reef, and steer, sir ; and I think I can do my 
duty.” 

“Really, and truly, Matt, if you are in earnest, I don’t 
know but that I would be willing to ship you upon my 
own responsibility.” 

“ I am in earnest, sir. I want to go to sea. I want 
to get away from New York. It will be better for me 
to go away. And then, sir, if I may venture — ” 

“ Go on.” 

“ Who knows what may turn up in a long voyage ?” 
The man’s face glowed with earnest feeling, and his 
hearer knew that the words came from deep down in 
the heart. “ Who knows,” he went on, “ what of dan- 
ger may be upon the great deep ? There’s danger of 
storm and tempest, and there’s danger from many a 
hidden place. I want to earn an honest living, sir, and 
I want to go to sea to do it. By going with you I may 
have the power to repay you something that I never 
could repay otherways. You are an officer, you are 
young and hopeful. I will be your true friend. Let 
what will come, let it come high or low, while Matt 


A Skadozv on Shipboard. 


57 


Bungo is on board your ship, you will have one true and 
devoted friend. Will you take me ?” 

Two great tears rolled down the young man’s cheeks, 
as he put forth his hand and answered : 

“ Yes, my true heart, you shall go with me, if you 

will r 

“ Thank you. Bless you* sir !” 

A brief silence, and then Matt said : 

“ Now look ye, Mr. Moore, it isn’t well that a secret 
bond of friendship should ever be known on board a 
ship between an officer and a foremast hand. So I 
would like it if you would never speak of what happened 
last night. I haven’t told of it. Have you ?” 

“ Not yet, Matt. I have had no opportunity.” 

“ Then suppose we agree, now and here, to keep it to 
ourselves. And don’t you never show to me any 
favoritism. Don’t, by a look, show that there is any 
bond between us.” 

“ But, my dear fellow, why are you so anxious in this 
respect ?” 

“ I’ll tell you why I am anxious, Mr. Moore. Some 
of the crew of this ship will know me, and those men 
may think worse of me than I am, and if they should 
get the fancy that I was working on the soft side of an 
officer, don’t you see how they might turn it ? Let us 
keep our hearts to ourselves, leastwise what belongs 
alone to you and me, and we won’t refer to this again 
unless the time should come when Matt Bungo can pay 
some of his debt. Now let us have the papers, and I’ll 
be a shipped man, and report for duty to-night, and 
swing my hammock. What say you ?” 

The young mate was strangely affected by Matt’s 
manner, but he felt not a shadow of hesitation in trusting 
him, nor did he hesitate to humor the man in his seem- 
ingly whimsical request. The papers were produced, 


58 


The Spectre's Secret. 


and with Horace Moore as the only witness Matt Bungo 
was shipped for the voyage to India and back. 

“ Shall I write down the full name — Matthew ?'* asked 
the mate, as he held his pen suspended over the paper. 

“ I never knew such a name,” said the man with a 
grim smile. “ I guess Matt is all I'm entitled to. At 
any rate, it’s all I ever answered to, and we won’t make 
a change at this late day.” 

So he was shipped as simple Matt Bungo, and was 
allowed to proceed to the forecastle, and select a bunk, 
or, if he preferred, put his name upon hooks for a ham- 
mock. He chose the chance for a hammock, and said 
he should swing in it that night and be ready for work 
in the morning. And then he went away. 

And Horace Moore, when the work had been done, 
felt that he had done a good thing. Beyond his power 
of analysis he felt that good, and only good, could come 
of his association with Matt Bungo. He did not care 
to question more particularly. For the most blessed 
faith man cannot always give a coldly calm and philo- 
sophical reason. 

On that Friday evening, Matt came down with his 
hammock and chest, and on the following morning he 
went to work. On Saturday afternoon, Captain Percy 
returned, and when he had heard his mate’s report of 
proceedings, and had seen the condition of the ship, 
below and aloft, he nodded approvingly. 

“ Mr. Moore,” he said, extending his hand, “ I think 
you and I will work together without chafing.” 

“ Thank you, sir.” Horace accepted the hearty word, 
knowing well that it held a volume of meaning. 

“ I see one or two new men,” said Captain Percy. 

“ Yes,” responded the mate. “ I have shipped three. 
Two were sent down from the office, and one I have 


% 

A Shadow on Shipboard. 59 


taken upon my own responsibility. Here is my man, 
sir. Matt Bungo, this is Captain Percy.” 

The new man touched his hat respectfully, and then 
stood erect, without a falter or a quiver. 

John Percy looked him over, from head to foot, and 
then settled a steady, searching look upon his face. 

“ Matt Bungo,” said he, “ your name is not unfamil- 
iar to me. I have heard bad things of you. But I like 
your face. I am not afraid to trust you.” 

“ May I take your hand, Captain ?” 

“ There you have it, my man.” 

“ And there’s mine, sir, for the voyage. I’ll try to 
keep your friendship to the end.” 

“ Good ! I like that. As I said before, your face 
gives me confidence.” 

“ How in the world did you come to pick that man 
up ?” asked the captain, as he and his mate walked aft 
together. 

“ What do you know of him ?” questioned Moore in 
return. 

“ I really know nothing, save what I have heard of 
him as a reckless and audacious adventurer, by land 
and by sea, and as a hard, tough customer generally.” 

“ By and by,” said Horace, “ when we are alone, I 
will tell you the story.’-’ 

And in the evening, in the cabin, our hero told the 
captain the story of his night’s adventure, and of the 
subsequent action of Bungo. 

“ I have told you this, Captain, because you have a 
right to know it, but I could wish that you would join 
with me in respecting the man’s desire for secrecy out- 
side. I know not why it is, but really, I have strong 
faith in the fellow. I do not believe we shall find trust 
in him misplaced,” 


6o 


The Spectre's Secret. 


“ I agree with you, Moore, and I agree to let the 
story rest where it is.” 

On the following Monday morning Sugg Witldll 
came on board, and one of the first things to particu- 
larly attract his attention was the face of Matt Bungo. 

“ Matt,” said he, with unfeigned surprise, when he 
had drawn his old companion out of the way forward, 
“ are you shipped here ?” 

“ Yes, Sugg. And I’d like to ask you the same ques- 
tion. Are you booked for the voyage ?” 

“ I am. But, Matt, what’s up ? What put this into 
your head ?” 

“ Very likely the same that put it into yours. New 
York’s getting too hot to hold me. I’ve had a brush, 
old fellow, a little the narrowest squeak I ever had.” 

“ I haven’t heard of it.” 

“ For the good reason that it hasn’t got wind yet. 
Thank fortune, I ’ve kept close. It wasn’t my fault — 
not a bit. Two green ones were fools enough to buck 
against me. I cleaned ’em out, and then they tried to 
clean me out on the dock. I’ll tell you about it some 
time, when we are clear of the shore. And now, Sugg, 
what in the world sent you this way ? I should as 
soon have expected to meet my old Aunt Isaac’s ghost 
here.” 

“ Why,” returned Witkill, not entirely at his ease, 
“ the fact is, I wanted a change of air.” He bright- 
ened as he added : “ I thought I’d find it healthier for 

awhile, a little further away from the Tombs.” 

“ All right. Mum's the word. You keep my counsel, 
and I’ll keep yours.” 

If Sugg Witkill had been inclined at first to suspect 
any ulterior motive on Matt’s part, he found nothing to 
sustain it ; and it was evident from the change in his 
manner, that he felt it for his interest to keep up the 


A Shadow on Shipboard. 


61 


old friendship, the very feeling which Matt desired 
should actuate him. Still he did not appear entirely at 
ease. Something was on his mind which he wanted 
cleared off. Twice he started to ask a question and 
backed down on both occasions. Matt had the vantage 
ground, and could afford to wait. He saw the sign of 
trouble, and suspected the cause. 

“ Poor dog !” the latter said to himself, as he walked 
away, “ he wonders if Hargrave has two strings to his 
bow. He wonders if I am sent on the same errand 
with himself ; and he don’t know how to approach me 
without letting out his secret.” 

And thereupon Matt Bungo shook himself, and 
expanded his lungs, and felt how grand a thing it was 
to have a clear conscience. In fact, this feeling was a 
weighty one ; and with Matt it was somewhat new and 
strange. And he enjoyed it. Everything around him 
seemed to take bright and healthful color therefrom, 
and even the very air he breathed was more pure and 
invigorating. So clear was his perception in this direc- 
tion that he was enabled to speak to himself his 
thoughts : 

“ Bless me !” he soliloquized, as he stood by the rail 
and looked off over the living waters, “ how much 
better a man feels with good resolutions in his bosom ; 
and how grand it is to have the faith that the good 
resolutions shall be kept ! Ah, Horace Moore, you did 
a good thing for me when you saved ms from that 
knife ; and if you did not do a good thing for yourself, 
then I am wild in my calculations/’ 

It was evening when Sugg Witkill approached Matt 
again, and this time he spoke freely, but yet there was 
sign of effort enough to denote that he had resolved to 
ease his mind. 


62 


The Spectre's Secret. 


“ By the way, Matt, have you seen Lyon Hargrave 
lately?” 

“ No.” 

“ Have you heard from him ?” 

“ Not a word. Have you ?” 

“ No.” 

“ Do you know, Sugg, if I had not got this chance, I 
should have been tempted, in case of trouble, to come 
down on him for help. He has come into a fat thing. 
But it is as well as it is. If I get clear of New York, he 
is welcome to all I’ve done for him.” 

“ So say I,” responded Witkill, in a tone of relief. 
“ But say, Matt, have you noticed who our second mate 
is ?” 

“ Of course I have. I knew him the moment I saw 
him. And I tell you, Sugg, I rather like him. It’s a 
lucky thing that he don’t know us.” 

“Very lucky. And, as you said, Matt, I like the 
fellow myself.” * 

Sugg Witkill walked away whistling, and Matt Bungo 
nodded mysteriously as he watched the slouching 
retreat. 

On Tuesday morning the crew of the Speedwell was 
all on board, and she had been hauled out into the 
stream, and a couple of tug-boats engaged to take her 
down through the Narrows. 

The first mate, Charles Huxton, had assumed com- 
mand of his watch. He was a man of forty, or there- 
abouts ; a native of Salem, Mass. ; stocky and strong ; 
with thick, sandy hair, and complexion to match. In 
some respects he might be called a tiger, but he was a 
grand, good tiger to all who cheerfully and manfully did 
their duty. 

The third mate was named William Lander, a man 
of eight- and-seventy, and a good seaman. If he was 


A SJiadow 071 Shipboard \ 


6 3 


ever to he estopped from official advancement, it would 
be from intellectual lack. 

As supercargo went out George Dwinal, a son of the 
owner, and a true-hearted gentleman. 

Of men before the mast there were thirty, including 
the boatswain, sailmaker, and carpenter. The three 
latter officers had been rated for extra pay, but were to 
be allowed no extra privileges unless one of them 
should be found competent to act in the capacity of 
fourth mate. 

It was a fair looking crew as crews of the time 
averaged ; but seamen were scarce, and men had been 
shipped who would not have been taken could better 
men have been found. 

“ Mr. Moore, what do you think of this crew ?” asked 
Huxton, as the two stood by the wheel. 

“ I think we’ll have to commence straight with them,” 
was Horace’s answer. “ There are a few bad-looking 
men.” 

“ I believe you.” 

“ Still,” added the second mate, “ I am not inclined to 
borrow trouble. It is well for the officers of a ship that 
the best interest of the men is to faithfully perform their 
duties.” 

“ You are right, sir.” 

When the watches were called off both Witkill and 
Bungo were put in the starboard watch, which was the 
watch of the captain and the second mate. Horace had 
planned that Matt Bungo should go in his watch, and 
the other had come in by accident of rotation. 

At length the Speedwell was towed down to the lower 
bay, and in due time she had taken her departure, and 
was standing out to sea. The men worked well in 
unison, and the officers soon proved themselves entirely 
competent. The slight variations of rigging from the 


6 4 


The Spectre s Secret . 


ships of his former service Horace had particularly 
noted before sailing 1 , so that he was perfectly at home 
when the need came. 

For two weeks the ship sailed on, and matters moved 
with comparative smoothness. There was some slight 
need of discipline, and a few of the men had been 
reprimanded, and two had been lightly punished. One 
of these latter was Philip Grover, who had been rated 
at boatswain ; and not many days after, for another 
glaring offence, his rate was taken from him, and he 
was sent forward. The berth of boatswain was then 
offered to Matt Bungo, who had proved himself compe- 
tent and willing. But he begged that he might be 
excused. 

“ Tell the captain,” he said, privately, to Moore, “ that 
I’d better not take it now. Perhaps some time I may. 
He may have the duty from me all the same.” 

So no appointment was made in place of the deposed 
boatswain. 

By this time, the expiration of three weeks, Horace 
Moore had become strangely impressed with a sinister 
look in the face of a man called Sugg Witkill. At best 
the face of the man was evil, but the young officer had 
more than once found the evil gaze’fixed upon him in a 
way that caused him to shrink and shudder — to shrink 
and shudder while the baleful influence was upon him, 
and then to feel indignation and disgust. One night, 
while on the mid-watch, while Witkill was in the fore- 
top, and Bungo was alone at the wheel, he found oppor- 
tunity to speak safely with the latter. 

“ Matt,” he said, “ you seem to know Sugg Witkill ?” 

The helmsman came near letting the ship come into 
the wind in the perturbation caused by the question. 
But he regained his point of compass, and also 
regained his composure. 


A Shadozv on Shipboard. 


65 


“ Mr. Moore, have you noticed anything ?” 

“ Yes, Matt, I have noticed much.” 

“ Sugg’s in the top, isn’t he ?” 

* “ Yes.” 

“ Let Stacy relieve me, and I’ll join you at the lee 
mizzen rigging. We’ll be under cover of the house 
there.” 

Bungo was presently relieved, and shortly afterward 
he found the mate at the appointed spot. 

“ Mr. Moore,” he said, “ I’ve been expecting for some 
time that you’d ask me about that man. If I knew any 
thing, I could set you on your guard ; but I only suspect.” 

“ And what do you suspect, Matt ?” 

“First and foremost, sir, let us be pledged that for 
the present we will keep our own counsel. I want to 
know if I am right in my suspicions. What should you 
think, sir, if you had reason to believe that Sugg 
Witkill had been hired to ship on board this vessel ?” 

“ Hired ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ By whom ?” 

“ Suppose you had good evidence that Lyon Hargrave 
had hired him ?” 

Horace started as though he had received a sudden 
and heavy blow. 

“ Matt ! What do you mean ?” 

“I mean just what I have said, sir. You remember 
the night that you left me at the ‘ Foul Anchor ?’ ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Well, sir, on that night, you may have observed 
that a woman came into the archway as you went out ?” 

“ Yes, I met her.” 

“ That woman, sir, told me that Sugg had shipped on 
board the Speedwell ; and she further told me that Lyon 
Hargrave had been that morning in close confab with 


66 


The Spectre s Secret . 


Sugg ; and Sugg had told her that he had made a good 
thing. I had known Sugg Witkill for years ; and I am 
sorry to confess that I had known a worse man in Lyon 
Hargrave. It was then, sir, that I resolved to ship.” * 

Horace reached out and took the sailor’s hard hand. 

“ In Heaven’s name, Matt, do you think Lyon Har- 
grave could set a hound upon my track to take my 
life ?” 

“ I do really think he could do just that thing.” 

“ But for what ?” 

“ I’ll give you one reason, sir, and there may be more. 
You know there was a will missed ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ But it may not be destroyed.” 

“ Matt Bungo ! What do you know of that will ?” 

“ Only what I’ve picked up, sir. I suspect, though, 
that even Lyon Hargrave never saw it. If he knew it 
was destroyed, he wouldn’t care for you. But I can’t 
tell you of the will now. There’s something about that 
matter as far beyond my comprehension as heaven is 
beyond the earth. The future must tell us that. For 
the present we have only to look at Sugg Witkill. I’ve 
had my eyes upon him, sir. I believe he means you 
harm, I believe he is the hired agent of Lyon Hargrave 
to that end, but I do not think he means to move until 
we reach some foreign port. But we can watch him. 
He is not so cunning as I thought him, or he would not 
have so soon exposed himself. However, sir, my 
presence on board has hurt him. I doubt if he is quite 
satisfied as yet that I am still his friend. He don’t 
treat me so, at all events.” 

Horace Moore was so overwhelmed with surprise that 
for a time his tongue could not find speech, and after a 
brief pause Matt resumed : 

“ Now look ye, Mr. Moore, I have told you all this 


A Shadow on Shipboard. 


67 


because I couldn’t help it. You asked me, and I 
couldn’t find the heart to keep the secret longer. But 
you and I must keep it between ourselves until we 
know positively. Above all things, if you would ever 
unmask Lyon Hargrave, Sugg Witkill must not see a 
sign of suspicion, in either you or me. Don’t you feel 
it so ?” 

“Yes, Matt.” 

“ And will you keep this whole thing to j^ourself, 
only as you may speak with me as you have oppor- 
tunity ?” 

“Yes, I can promise that,” replied the youth, quickly 
and emphatically. “ Since I can relieve my mind upon 
occasion to you I ask no more. But you will inform me 
if you see anything new ?” 

“ I will tell you everything, sir. We will work 
together. Keep a sharp lookout upon Witkill, and I 
will do the same. When we reach port I will set a trap 
for him. If it is as I suspect, I shall catch him, never 
fear.” 

Shortly after this the two separated, Bungo returning 
to the wheel, while the mate resumed his walk upon the 
weather side of the quarter deck. 

And as Horace Moore thought of Lyon Hargrave he 
began to estimate the possible villainy of the man’s 
character. Touching the will he cared only in one 
direction — the direction of Lily Merton. With present 
thought of her came another thought : Could the vil- 
lain have it in contemplation to— But he ground his 
heel upon the deck, with the thought beneath it. He 
would not, if he could help it, give such a thought even 
form in his mind. 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE VERGE OF A GREAT DANGER. 

For a time, Horace Moore found it difficult to hold 
his thoughts down to the work of a calm analysis of 
the subject matter comprehended in the scope of the 
suspicions which had presented themselves, or which 
had been presented by Matt Bungo ; but he came to it, 
at length ; and as reason began to work clearly, he 
found possible solutions not difficult. On the day 
following his interview with Matt, Sugg Witkill had the 
wheel from ten o’clock until meridian. While he stood 
there, Horace went to the binnacle, and presently spoke 
of the ship s course, at the same time looking the man 
straight in the eye. Witkill could not answer the look. 
His eyes fell, and he pretended to be watching the 
card of the compass, which pretence was bungling 
and abortive. The mate stood there until he saw 
drops of perspiration starting out upon the man’s 
brow and temples, and then, with a commonplace 
remark concerning the wind and the course, he 
turned back to the taffrail. And he said to himself 
when he was alone : 

“ Of all the men in this ship that man alone cannot look 
me in the eye. Other men are as wicked as he, but 
they do not wince when I look at them. It is the evil 
[ 68 ] 


The Verge of a Great Danger. 69 


in his heart which has me for its object that produces 
this result. The thing is as plain as the shadow of the 
sun. Matt is right. That man means me ill.” 

And beyond this his thoughts ran something after 
this fashion : 

“ I certainly have every reason to believe that Wal- 
ter Hargrave made a will in my favor, prompted thereto 
by his own love and good will. Edith Somerby is sure 
the will was destroyed by Lyon’s connivance. It may 
be that the will is still in existence, or, that proofs of its 
destruction are wanting. If such is the case, Lyon 
Hargrave sees in me a possible barrier to his coveted 
fortune. O ! if I could only see through the mystery ! 
But I can suspect this villainous-looking emissary — and 
I do suspect him. Time may reveal it. God help me !” 

Time passed on. The ship had crossed the equator, 
and was approaching the southern tropic. One after- 
noon Captain Percy observed signs to the southward 
which did not look to him fair. 

“ I should hardl}' look for a squall in this place, and 
at this time,” he said, to his first mate, “ but that cer- 
tainly looks like it.” 

“ I have known squalls here, sir,” returned Huxton ; 
“ and when they come they are apt to be short and sweet. 
I think I should prepare for it.” 

All hands were called, but all hands did not at once 
make their appearance. The watch below remained in 
the forecastle, and Mr. Huxton leaped down with a 
rope’s end in his hand. He came upon the conclave 
there assembled unexpectedly, and heard words spoken 
that staggered him. 

“ How !” he cried, with an oath. “ Have you got a 
game of that kind on foot ? On deck to shorten sail, 
and after that we will look into this. Look to yourself, 
Phil. Grover ! Let me SQe n wink oqt of the way, an cl 


70 


The Spectre s Secret . 


I’ll send a bullet through your brain ! On deck ! and 
I’ll call you aft when this other danger is provided for.” 

The men went on deck, though more than one of them 
gave signs that he would have throttled the mate had 
he dared ; but Charles Huxton was not a man to be 
openly assaulted, especially when he was armed and 
forewarned. 

It was near sundown, and white caps of foam could 
be seen in the distance. The ship was put with her 
stern in that direction, and her sail stripped off as fast 
as possible. The lofty sails had been taken in, the top- 
sail yards lowered, and the sails clewed up, and the 
courses were being taken in, when the squall struck. It 
was a terrific shock, and beneath the mighty stroke the 
ship almost went under ; but she struggled up, and by 
heroic exertion, only one sail was lost. The spanker 
had not been loosed from its outhaul when the tornado 
came, and the sail was rent from throat to clew-cringle, 
and then blown into ribbons. 

Mr. Huxton stood by the starboard brace-bumkin 
when the squall struck, and through the blinding sheet 
of spray that was dashed high and far over the ship he 
saw the wreck of the spanker, and he also saw that the 
heavy boom was loose. 

“ Look out for the boom !” he cried. “ Jump to the 
sheets, and secure it amidships. Crotch the spanker-boom 
for your liyes !" 

They were the last words ever heard from the lips of 
Charles Huxton. On the next moment was heard the 
ciy : 

“ A MAN OVERBOARD !” 

Which was repeated from poop to forecastle. Captain 
Percy had stood by the wheel, and had seen his mate by 
the .quarter-rail, and had heard his order for secur- 


The Verge of a Great Danger . 71 


ing the spanker-boom ; but in the fury of the dashing 
spray he had not seen plainly. 

“ Who has gone ?” he cried, springing to the rail, and 
grasping it for support. 

“ I think it’s Mr. Huxton, sir," said Philip Grover, who 
stood near, with the spanker sheet in his hand. 

“ Silence, fore and aft T thundered the captain, through 
his trumpet. “ Cut away the life-buoys ! Stand by to 
lower away the boat !” 

Beyond this he could not give an immediate order, as 
the ship was just then completely under water ; but in 
a very few moments the squall had passed, and the shock 
was felt no more. It had come and gone almost with 
the rapidity of lightning, and while the foaming mon- 
ster howled away to leeward the Speedwell was settling 
down quietly upon the slightly ruffled waters. 

And now Captain Percy not only lowered away the boat 
from the stern-davits, but he got out a cutter, and he 
divided a sufficient number of his crew, and sent them 
out upon the search. The passing of the hurricane had 
not left a dangerous sea, and the boats put off with no 
fear on the part of their occupants. When his boats 
had gone, under charge of Mr. Moore, Percy made sail, 
so bracing the yards that the ship could not drift away 
from the spot where the officer had been lost. 

But all search proved vain. Muskets were dis- 
charged ; rockets were sent up ; and as the night shut 
in buoys were sent adrift, with gleaming lights 
attached. Four long hours had passed, and the dark- 
ness had shut down like a pall. Not a sign of the lost 
man had been seen, not a sound had been heard. As a 
last resort, Captain Percy left his ship in charge of his 
second mate, and went himself forth in the cutter, with 
bright torches flaming at bow and stern, but it availed 
not. At midnight, with a heavy, aching heart, Percy 


72 


The Spectre's Secret. 


gave the order to fill away. A new spanker had been 
bent, and, save that one vacant place at the cabin board, 
the passing tempest had left no trace. 

“Horace,” said John Percy, taking our hero’s hand, 
and addressing him as he might have addressed a 
brother, “ I must put the ship in your hands for the 
next watch. You and I are no longer on the same list. 
You are henceforth First Mate of the Speedwell. Go up 
and set your watch, and if you can come back here, do 
so. There is a heavy weight on my mind. The lar- 
board watch is now yours. Come back if you find 
a man you can trust with the deck.” 

“ Captain Percy ! Do you suspect foul play in 
this ?” 

“ Yes, my boy — yes, Mr. Moore. As God lives, 
Charles Huxton was not accidentally knocked over- 
board. I saw him but a moment before, and I know 
that the spanker-boom never reached him. But no 
more now. Go on deck. The larboard watch is the 
mid- watch, and I give it to you. See everything as it 
should be, and then come back. Oh ! Charles and I 
have been mates for years. He was a true man, with 
a true heart. There is mischief afloat. I will be up 
when you come down.” 

Horace Moore went on deck, where he found the 
ship on her course under charge of Mr. Lander ; 
and he heard murmurings from a few; that the watch 
had not been relieved. 

“Easy, my men,” he said, pleasantly. “The cap. 
tain is under a cloud. I will take the larboard watch, 
and for the present, I must take one man from the 
other watch to assist me, and then the starboard 
watch may go below. I would like Sugg Witkill to 
come into the watch with me. That is the only 
change that will be necessary,” 


The Verge of a Great Danger . 


73 


Sugg Witkill was confounded at this. What to 
make of it he did not know. Could Horace Moore 
have really and truly taken such a fancy to him ? 
But, lay the land as it might, he could not accept. 
He stammered and stuttered, and finally asked that 
he might be allowed to remain with his old watch- 
mates. 

“ I will not urge you against your express desire,” 
said our hero, with a show of earnest good feeling. 
“ I want a good seaman to come with me into the 
new watch, and I know that you, Witkill, are such. 
Can you recommend to me a man such as I want ?” 

Never was a man more completely taken aback 
than was Sugg Witkill at that moment. The thought 
that the mate was trifling did not enter his mind. 

“ Select me a good man from your watch, Witkill, 
and I will take him,” pursued Moore, seeing plainly 
that the rascal was unsuspicious of the ruse. 

Now it so happened that Matt Bungo stood by 
Witkill’s side, and with a nudge he whispered : 

“ Plague take it, Sugg, 111 go. Tell him so.” 

And Witkill, as innocently as could be, recommended 
Matt Bungo to the mate as the man whom he should 
take. 

“ Bungo, will you come into the larboard watch 
with me ?” asked Moore. 

“ Yes, sir, if you wish it.” 

“ He’s a good man, sir,” said Witkill, beginning to 
feel more like himself, “ and I think you’ll like him.” 

So Matt Bungo was transferred to the larboard watch, 
and very soon thereafter the starboard watch was 
allowed to go below. 

“ Mr. Moore, did you really want Sugg in your watch ?” 
asked Matt. 

“ Why do you asl ?” 


74 


The Spectre s Secret . 


“ Because you did it so natural- like, and so easy, that 
I almost took you to be in earnest.” 

“ Well, Matt, I have got now just what I wanted. 
Matt Bungo was my mark.” 

“ Thank you, sir.” 

“ And now, Matt, I want you to take the deck for a 
little while. I must go below and speak with the 
captain.” 

“ I’ll keep all safe and trim, sir.” 

Horace had reached the cabin door when a touch 
upon the shoulder caused him to stop and turn. It was 
Matt, who had followed him from the gangway. 

“ Mr. Moore, you said you were going to see the 
captain. Do you know what he wants of you ?” 

“ I can guess.” 

The rough seaman stood for a moment irresolute ; 
then he laid his hand upon the mate’s shoulder, and 
said : 

“ Horace Moore, the time has gone by for secrets 
between you and me. If Captain Percy asks you how 
Mr. Huxton came to fall overboard, you can tell him he 
was pushed.” 

“ Matt !” 

“ It’s just as I say, sir.” 

“ Matt Bungo, do you know that Mr. Huxton was 
purposely knocked overboard ?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ By whom ?” 

“ I couldn’t exactly swear to that, sir ; but I can tell 
you why he was sent over so soon. When all hands 
were called to lake in sail, you may remember that the 
watch below didn’t move in a hurry, and that Huxton 
went into the forecastle to call ’em. He sprang down 
the ladder at a bound, and was just in time to hear a 
speech that surprised him. It was a speech of mutiny, 


The Verge of a Great Danger. 


75 


sir ; and he was foolish enough to let himself out. Only 
for that you wouldn’t be standing his watch now.” 

Horace saw that the man was earnest and sincere, 
and the situation flashed upon him — flashed upon him 
with a force that for the moment confounded him. In 
this light he could now understand many things that 
had before puzzled him. Mutterings, and whisperings, 
and mysterious glances and nods, which had been 
observed for some days back, could under this flash be 
accounted for. As soon as he could command himself 
he took the sailor’s hand. 

“ Matt, answer me this. Is Sugg Witkill the leader ?” 

“ No, sir, not the leader ; but he comes next to it.” 

“ Is it Philip Grover ?” 

Matt hesitated. He cast his eyes quickly around to 
be sure he was not overheard by another, and then 
whispered : 

“ Leave it in my hands for the present, sir. It’ll 
soon come, to a head, and I shall know the whole thing. 
I am trusted, sir. I had never thought till this trial 
came, that a bad name could bless anybody ; but my 
bad name has proved a blessing to me in this. 
Because I have been a bad man these bad men trust 
me, and they really believe that I am with them heart 
and hand. Sugg Witkill doesn’t suspect me of a single 
white feather. He thinks I am black all through. 
There is mutiny, sir, and as soon as the plans are laid 
you shall know them. You may trust me. Only, sir, 
be very careful that you don’t expose yourself. And 
don’t let the captain do it either. Don’t, by word or 
look, let a man on board this ship have reason to fancy 
that you suspect anything out of the way.” 

“ You may trust me for that, Matt ; and I will 
avouch for Captain Percy. But tell me, how many of 
the crew are implicated in this?” 


The Spectres Secret. 


7 6 


“ More than you would believe, sir. I shall know ail 
in a day or two, and be sure you shall have the infor- 
mation as soon as it is settled. There — we’d better not 
talk any more now. There’s danger in both watches. 
Trust to me, sir.” 

“ Bless you, Matt ! I trust you fully. Look to the 
deck while I am gone.” 

Horace found Captain Percy sitting at the table, with 
an open chart before him, and having made sure that 
they were alone, he took a seat on the opposite side. 

“ With whom have you left the deck, Mr. Moore ?” 

“ With Matt Bungo.” 

Percy started, and presently reached over and laid 
his hand upon that of his mate. 

“ Horace, you must not trust that man.” 

Our hero did not evince nor affect any surprise. He 
simply asked : 

“ Why not trust him ?” 

“ He is a bad man,” said Percy, with bitter emphasis. 
“ He is one of the very worst, if I can believe my eyes. 
Hush !” 

The captain arose and went to the door of the bulk- 
head, and having satisfied himself that no eavesdrop- 
pers were near, he resumed his seat. 

“ Horace Moore, there is mutiny on board the ship !” 

The mate did not express any surprise. Calmly 
returning his commander’s look he answered : 

“ I wish I could not believe it ; but the evidence is 
strong. You spoke, sir, as though you suspected foul 
play in the loss of Mr. Huxton. Can you tell me what 
reason you have for such suspicion ?” 

“ I have this reason,” returned the chief, with knitted 
brow and blazing eye. “ I saw Charles Huxton standing 
by the rail. When he gave the order for securing the 
spanker-boom I was looking at him. Just then a shred 


77 


The Verge of a Great Danger . 


of the streaming spanker snapped in my face, and for 
the moment blinded me. In a moment more Huxton 
was gone. No piece of rigging was flying near him. 
He must have been fairly lifted over the rail.” 

“ Have you any thought who did it, sir ?” 

“ Yes. I think Philip Grover did it. He was the one 
who gave the alarm.” 

“ Captain Percy, in one direction your suspicion leads 
you falsely. Matt Bungo is a true friend to both you 
and me, and we must trust him implicitly in this emer- 
gency.” 

“ Horace, what intelligence have you ?” 

“ That which I have gained since I left you last. 
Listen, sir.” 

And thereupon the mate told to his chief all he had 
learned from Bungo. ' 

“ Matt associates with them, sir, and they believe him 
to be one of their best men. Grover is evidently at the 
head of the mutiny, and Witkill comes next. How 
many are pledged I do not know, but I know that we 
shall have ugly men to deal with.” 

Captain Percy was no coward, but his cheek blanched 
and his lip quivered as he listened to his mate’s story. 
He knew very well that his crew was composed of men 
in whom the dangerous element predominated. In fact, 
when he came to reflect upon the matter, and call the 
men to mind, one by one, he knew not any whom he 
could fully trust. There were many who could never 
have headed a murderous mutiny, but he could think of 
only one or two who would be likely to stand out free 
and clear from the mutinous influence. 

“ I acknowledge,” he said, “ that I have misjudged 
Matt Bungo. We will trust him. When we know the 
villains’ plans we can take measures to thwart them. It 
is very likely known by them that we have a large sum 


78 


The Spectre s Secret. 


of money on board, and they also know that most of our 
cargo could be readily sold or bartered at any African 
port. They intend, most likely, to rise before we reach 
Cape Town.” 

“ That will not give them a long time, sir.” 

“ About seven days.” 

“ I believe, Captain, that we shall circumvent them.” 

“ If we can know their plans beforehand.” 

“ I'll stake my life upon Matt Bungo’s truth. When 
he knows, we shall know ; and in the meantime let you 
and me keep our own secret. We can work better so.” 

“You are right, Horace. We will not let even our 
suspicions be known. Do you keep your countenance, 
and I will keep mine. And let us not borrow unneces- 
sary trouble. I know we have a dangerous crew, but, 
forewarned, we will be a match for them. And now let 
us close this conference. You must not be too long 
absent from the deck.” 

After a further word of caution Horace returned to 
his post, but did not seek Matt. 

On the following day the crew was mustered upon 
the quarter-deck, when Horace Moore was announced 
as first mate ; William Lander to be second mate ; and 
Tom Martin to be third mate — to be respected and 
obeyed accordingly. 

The night of that day shut in dark and sultry, and 
when, at eight o’clock, Percy and Moore came to com- 
pare notes, they had discovered much. They had seen 
signs which were not to be mistaken. 

“ Moore,” said the captain, holding his mate’s hand as 
he spoke, “ this mutiny is thoroughly cut and dried, and 
I tell you nearly every man is implicated. Have an eye 
about you, sir. I shall not sleep to-night. You will see 
Bungo on deck ?” 


The Verge of a Great Danger . 79 


“ Yes, and there goes eight bells. I will look sharp, 
sir.” 

It was Moore’s watch from eight until midnight. He 
had seen the men at their stations, and was standing by 
the binnacle, when a piece of rope yarn struck his face. 
He looked around and saw by the mizzen rigging a man, 
who seemed to be beckoning to him. 

“ Ah, is it you, Matt ?” 

“Yes, sir. Hush ! Come aft to the taffrail. We 
mustn’t be seen.” 

The man spoke breathlessly, as though under strong 
excitement, and the mate felt his own heart throb pain- 
fully as he led the way to a spot where he might meet 
his strange friend in safety. 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE MATE’S STRATAGEM. 

“ Now, Matt, what is it ?” 

“ Hush ! Let us be sure we are not observed.” 

“You may speak freely, Matt, but softly.” 

“ Then, sir,” said the seaman, in a breathless, pain- 
fully constrained voice, “ the mutineers have planned to 
rise this very night ! It is to be done — the blow is to 
struck — when the mid-watch is called. All hands will 
then be on deck, and at a signal from Grover his party 
will spring together at the mainmast, and every man 
will be armed. Full three-quarters of the crew are in 
the compact. Of course their next movement will be 
simple. They anticipate little effective opposition.” 

“ Phil. Grover is the recognized leader, is he ?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Who is next ?” 

“ Sugg Witkill.” 

Horace Moore was thoroughly alarmed, but not 
unduly excited. In his alarm there was no weakness. 
He reflected a few moments, and then asked : 

“ Can you tell me how many of the crew are engaged 
with eager, willing spirit in this work — that is, how 
many would be willing to be recognized as leaders ?” 

“ Not more than eight, sir ?” 

“ Can you give me their names ?” 

[ 8 °] 


The Mate's Stratagem . 81 


“ I think I can, sir. You’ll find them on this bit of 
paper, put down just as I think they stand. They’ve 
got me third on their list, and I am to take the wheel 
the moment the signal is given, and if I find a man 
there not of us, I am to knock him on the head.” 

“ And the officers — what do they plan to do with us ?” 

“ You should know;, sir. Look at the characters of the 
mutineers. Surely they would think of but one thing 
to do with you.” 

“ They would murder us ?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ And what then ? What do they plan to do with the 
ship ?” 

“ That is not fully determined, sir. All agree that 
they will run to the northward ; and it is also agreed 
that the cargo shall be disposed of on the coast. Grover 
and Witkill are in favor of making direct for the slave 
coast, and there trading off the cargo for slaves, keeping 
the money which they know is on board. They will 
then repaint and disguise the ship, and make sail for 
Cuba.” 

The mate laid his hands upon the taffrail, and leaned 
his head upon them, and thus he remained for a full 
minute. When he looked up, Bungo said : 

“ It is just exactly as I have told you, sir ; and now 
you may put me to any work you choose, and I will do 
my best. But, sir, it will be a hard pull. Numbers are 
greatly against us. In fact, I don’t know of more than 
ten men, all told— and that includes every officer — who 
could be depended upon — and two or three of those will 
be invited to join the mutineers when the time comes.” 

“ How is Tom Martin ?” 

“ He is true blue, sir. He is marked out to be shot 
down with you and the captain. And now, Mr. Moore, 
can you think of some way of working to windward of the 


82 


The Spectre s Secret. 


villains ? It must be done, or all is lost. If you let 
eight bells strike again on board this ship without run- 
ning those rascals unexpectedly by the board, you’ll 
never see the rising of another sun.” 

“ Where is Grover ?” asked the mate, after a pause. 

“He is forward, sir, in charge of the forecastle.” 

Another pause, and then Moore said : 

“ I must go into the cabin and see the captain. Will 
you be at hand when I return ?” 

“ I will, sir.” 

“ Have you pistols, Matt ?” 

“ I have one.” 

“ I will bring you more. Keep your eyes and ears 
open while I am gone.” 

“ Never fear, sir.” 

Two bells (nine o’clock) were struck as the mate left 
the deck. He entered the cabin, and found the captain 
and supercargo, Dwinal, sitting at the table, the former 
with a chart open before him. Lander was asleep in 
his stateroom. The moment Percy looked up and 
caught the expression upon the face of his first officer, 
he knew there was calamity at hand. Moore stepped 
very lightly across the floor, and when he reached the 
table he sat down. Both the captain and the super- 
cargo looked at him anxiously, waiting for him to 
speak. Dwinal had been warned of the approaching 
danger, so he was not to be taken entirely by surprise. 

“ Captain Percy,” said the mate, in a whisper, “ the 
hour is at hand ! This very night, at the calling of the 
mid-watch, the mutineers have planned to strike.” 

“ Stop,” interposed Percy. “ Let us have Lander 
here. He has a strong arm and a true heart, even 
though his wit is not brilliant.” 

The second mate was called, and when he had taken 


The Mates Stratagem. 83 


his seat at the board Mr. Moore gave in detail the infor- 
mation he had received from Bungo. 

Those who have spent long months on shipboard, 
with only the trackless ocean for a surrounding, may 
be able to understand something of the situation of 
the officers of the Speedwell in this dire emergency. 
Mutiny at sea is a very different thing from mutiny 
on land. Let the danger be never so appalling, and 
the odds never so great, there can be no backing away 
— no flight from the impending blow. The walls of 
the most massive prison are not so impassable as are 
those walls of endless waters that shut in the victims of 
a ship’s mutiny. Those were brave men who sat at 
the cabin table, but we cannot wonder that their cheeks 
blanched for the moment under the weight of Moore’s 
revelation. Captain Percy was the first to break the 
silence. 

“ Let me see the paper which Bungo gave you.” 

Mr. Moore passed over the paper — a scrap from the 
blank leaf of an old book — on which eight names had 
been written with a pencil. The captain examined it 
critically, giving particular attention to each name. 

“ Phil. Grover and Sugg Witkill,” he finally said, “are 
known to us. Grover has been restive and malevolent 
from the first, and Witkill is a villain double-dyed. 
And Piper, the carpenter, is a bold, bad man. I do not 
think he would have had the brain to plan a mutiny, 
but he can make a fit and effective helper. McFarlain 
and John Townley are scamps, and have probably 
helped in the plotting. And Dick Smith might plot 
upon a pinch. Then we have Black Sam and Basil 
Giroux, two unadulterated villains, with just brain 
enough to follow the lead of others. It is a wicked 
and dangerous combination.” 

“ And I understand that there are sixteen others who 


8 4 


The Spectre's Secret . 


will join the mutineers when the signal is given ?” said 
Dwinal, gaspingly. 

“ Yes,” answered Moore. 

“ And that leaves only ten of us against twenty-four.” 

“ We cannot absolutely depend upon more than six,” 
said Moore. “ We four, with Tom Martin and Matt 
Bungo, are all we can safely swear by. Life is dear, 
and should the mutineers gain possession of the deck, I 
fear those few seamen who have not yet been approached 
would join them rather than suffer death. At this pres- 
ent moment six of us must seize the threatened danger. 
What do you think of it, Captain Percy ?” 

Percy bowed his head upon his hands, and after a time 
he acknowledged that he knew not what to think. 

“ At all events,” said Lander, doggedly, “ we will sell 
our lives as dearly as possible. We have plenty of fire- 
arms, and can make a little stand, at least.” 

“ You mean,” suggested Horace, “ should they at- 
tack us ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Ah, that must not be. If we allow their signal to 
be given, all the fire-arms in the ship cannot save us. 
We must circumvent them. We are forewarned, and 
let us make good the advantage.” 

“ But how ?” asked the captain and the second-mate in 
a breath. 

Without answering, Horace Moore arose and paced 
several times across the cabin. At length he stopped 
and stood by the table. His lip quivered, and there was 
a tremulousness in the hand which he laid upon the 
captain’s shoulder, but there was no fear in the sign. 
The deep, fiery light that gleamed in his lustrous eyes 
would have told that. 

“ Captain Percy,” he said, in a whisper, “ let us get 
out the best of our fire-arms and carefully load them. 


85 


The Mate's 


Stratagem. 


We want at least a score of heavy pistols r and as many 
of the smaller ones. Do you do this, and allow me to go 
on deck. I must not be too long absent. When you 
have them all prepared, let Mr. Dwinal come and inform 

_ »9 

me. 

“ What have you planned ?” asked the captain, 
excitedly. 

“ My plan is not yet clear. I must go on deck and 
think. All is, we must contrive some way to knock 
down a part of the enemy’s hamper with a long shot. I 
have the shadowings of a plan which may work to our 
advantage if you find nothing better. You will prepare 
the arms ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And let me know when it is done. Ha ! there goes 
three bells ! I have been from my post half an hour.” 

The Speedwell had crossed the southern tropic, and had 
entered upon the latitude of the north-westerly cur- 
rents of wind, so that she was now standing on her 
course with the wind abaft the beam. 

When Horace Moore reached the deck he found all 
apparently as he had left it. There was no moon, but 
the stars were shining, and the night was fair. The 
breeze was moderate, and the ship was sailing with top- 
gallant sails set above full topsails. He found Martin, 
the newly-made mate, at the binnacle, and with a touch 
upon the shoulder he called him aside to the quarter- 
rail, where he unfolded to him the situation. Tom had 
suspected the meeting, but had known nothing of the 
appointed time. It is not strange that he quivered a 
little when he had heard. 

“ What will we do ?” he asked. 

“ Are you prepared to stand by the ship ?” rejoined 
Horace. 

“ To the last !” was the emphatic answer. 


86 


The Spectre s Secret. 


“ Then I hope we may do much. Don’t leave the 
quarter-deck again during the watch, but stand by to 
move as I shall direct.” 

Martin promised to be faithful and watchful, and after 
this Horace sought Matt Bungo, with whom he held a 
brief but comprehensive consultation. 

“ You remember the names you gave me upon that 
paper ?” said our hero, at the close. 

“ Yes.” 

“ And if we have occasion to call away the boat, will 
you do your best to see that those men go in it ?” 

“ I will, sir.” 

“ All right. Stand by, and be steady.” 

Shortly after this Dwinal came from the cabin, and 
whispered to Horace that the arms were all prepared, 
and the mate followed him back, where he told to the 
captain the plan he had formed. 

“ Good !” cried Percy, with a new sparkle of the eye. 
“ Well thought of, Horace. By heavens ! if you succeed 
in this, we’ll have them foul ! We will stand by to 
appear when all hands are called, and we will have the 
arms at hand.” 

Horace Moore returned to the deck, where, for a 
time, he paced to and fro on the larboard side, the wind 
being upon that quarter. By and by he called Matt 
Bungo. 

“ Matt,” said he, as the man appeared, “ will you go 
and find Phil. Grover, and send him aft ? Don’t let any 
one else hear the order, if you can possibly avoid it.” 

“ I’ll be careful, sir.” 

Matt went forward as directed, and found Grover 
sitting upon the forecastle companion-hatch, and find- 
ing no one else within earshot, he said : 

“ Phil., Mr. Moore wants to see you aft.” 

“ What does he want ?” inquired Grover, with an oath, 


87 


The Mate's Stratagem . 


“ I think it’s about giving you some sort of a better 
berth r 

Another oath, long drawn out and very expressive, 
and then : 

“ We’ll take the berths for ourselves, Matt, before 
another sun comes up. But I’ll go and see him.” 

The mutineer found the mate standing by the lee- 
rail, close by the brace-bumkin. 

“ Mr. Moore, did you want me ?” 

“ Ah ! Grover — yes.” And the mate stood aside and 
motioned for the man to come nearer. 

Grover obeyed instinctively, and stood by Horace’s 
side, leaning against the rail. 

“ The captain and I have been talking the matter 
over since Huxton was lost, and we have concluded to 
give you a berth more suited to your merits. Do you 
think you can appreciate it, and hold on to it ?” 

“ I can tell you better after I know what it is.” 
There was insolence and ill-concealed triumph in the 
tone. 

“ This is it /” 

The mate had cautiously stepped away from the rail, 
and as he spoke he smote his fist with lightning-like 
velocity directly between Grover’s eyes, and then, in an 
instant, with one hand upon the villain’s throat, and 
the other under his legs, he threw him overboard. 
And then Moore started back and shouted, at the top 
of his voice : 

“ Man overboard ? Man overboard ! Call all hands ! 
All hands !” 

Matt Bungo had been ready, and the moment he 
heard the alarm, fce rushed to the forecastle hatch and 
shouted for dear life. 

The ship was quickly brought to the wind, and the 
courses clewed up, with the main- topsail aback, and by 


88 


The Spectre s Secret. 


this time all hands were on deck, and Captain Percy 
had taken command. 

“ Who is gone ?” came from many of the crew. 

“ It’s Phil. Grover,” answered Bungo. “ He was out 
on the lee bumkin, taking a turn out of the main-brace. 
Come, come, let us who are his friends go in the boat. 
We’ll have him back. He can swim like a fish.” 

Meanwhile orders had been given for lowering the 
boat, which was placed in charge of Piper, the carpen- 
ter. The sea was not rough, and there was no difficulty 
in either lowering or manning. Sugg Witkill, eager to 
save his mate, jumped into the boat with Piper, and 
overhauled the tackle as she was lowered, and when 
she had touched water the others of her crew slid down 
by the falls. Matt Bungo was busy and eager, calling 
lustily for the friends of the lost man to save him, and 
thus, as the manning of the boat was left entirely to 
him, he managed to send down the seven marked men, 
to go in quest- of the eighth. Those in the boat had 
evidently thought he would go with them ; but as 
there were only six oars, her crew was complete, so she 
was unhooked, and pulled away. 

“ To his station, every man !” ordered Captain 
Percy, as soon as the boat had put off. 

And as soon as the crew had dispersed from the taff- 
rail, where many of them had assembled to watch 
operations, the arms were brought out from the cabin, 
and distributed to those for whom they were intended. 

Thus armed, and in possession of the after part of 
the quarter-deck, the little band stood firm. A man 
not yet implicated in the mutiny was at the wheel, 
where he was allowed to remain. 

“ Main-braces !” shouted the captain. “ Stand by 
to fill away T 

The men forward were thunder-struck. What did 


The Mate's Stratagem. 


89 


the captain mean ? Was he going to runaway from his 
own boat, manned by his own men, in mid-ocean ? 

“ Let go to windward ! Brace up ! Quick !” 

It was one of those emergencies where the men could 
not stop to think. They were used only to obeying, 
not to thinking. Of the pledged mutineers their leaders 
were gone, so none were present to think effectively in 
that direction. 

The yards of the mainmast were braced to the wind, 
the lower sails set, and the ship once more put upon 
her course, before the crew could fairly comprehend 
what was being done. The men worked like machines 
moved by a master hand, and not one of them stopped 
to ask a question of the officers until the order to 
“ belay all ” had been given. And even then they had 
no need to ask, for Capt. Percy ordered all hands to the 
forward part of the quarter-deck as soon as the braces 
had been secured. Among the remaining mutinous 
ones there was no recognized leader — no man who had 
independently had a thought on the subject. They had 
been but followers of the leading spirits — spirits no 
longer present to guide them, and when the order came 
for them to lay aft to the quarter-deck they obeyed 
mechanically. Lanterns had been hung upon either 
side, and by the light thereof the men could see that 
the officers were armed and firm. 

Matt Bungo was not with those at the poop. His 
pistols were concealed, and he stood with the men at 
the mainmast, ready to strike in the proper place 
should there be need, but preferring to retain the 
confidence and good-will of the crew if he could, as not 
one of them could have reason for suspecting him of 
having betrayed the secret of the mutineers. 

Captain Percy advanced a pace, with a cocked pistol 
in each hand. 


9 o 


The Spectres Secret 


“ My men,” he said, with stern solemnity, “ your cruel 
wickedness is known to me. I have known for days 
that mutiny was brewing, in this ship, and I have 
known your leaders. They exposed themselves. The 
eight men who are gone from us I shall leave to the 
mercy of a just God. It would have been both murder 
and suicide for me to have kept them here. I know 
that they were your leaders, and I am willing to 
believe that you who now stand before me were but 
tools in their hands. Now mark me : Those of you 
who are ready and willing to return to your duty, and 
will pledge me your faith for the rest of the voyage, 
may step aft to the weather side of the quarter-deck ; 
and I promise you that I will forgive you for the past. 
If there be any among you who are not thus inclined, 
remain where you are !” 

There was a deep and fatal significance in this last 
sentence. Only five armed men stood before them, but 
the stricken crew felt themselves completely at their 
mercy. The men, in their haste, had come upon deck 
without arms, and if there were any among them who 
had inclination to resist, they knew not whom of their 
shipmates they could trust. 

Matt Bungo was the first to move. Turning to his 
comrades, he said : 

“ It’s all up, mates, and I, for one, am glad of it. I’m 
sorry for Phil, and Sugg, and the rest ; but I’d rather 
have it so than to have the red stain of murder on my 
hands. I’ll do my duty — and when I say that, I mean 
it, honest.” 

And he went over upon the weather side of the 
quarter-deck. 

And others followed him in a line — followed until 
every man had left the old spot by the mainmast, thus 
declaring that he would be true and dutiful henceforth. 


The Mate's Stratagem . 


9i 


And then Captain Percy sent the off- watch below, and 
gave the deck up to his mate. 

On the following morning Percy observed that not a 
few of his men were shy and tremulous, and he rightly 
judged the cause. After breakfast all hands were again 
mustered upon the quarter-deck. 

“ My men,” said the captain, when they had assem- 
bled, “ answer me truly. Don’t you feel better this 
morning as you are than you would have felt if you had 
been permitted to do mutiny and murder ?” 

The answer was not immediate, but when it came, it 
was spontaneous, hearty, and unanimous. They were 
glad to be as they were. And their faces showed it. 

{ Now, my men,” said Percy, with a beaming face, 
“ to your stations, and let us see if we cannot make a 
prosperous voyage of it.” 

And from that time all went well. Matt Bungo 
became chief among the foremast hands, and he kept 
them in the right way. They did not suspect the double 
part he had played in the mutiny, but they regarded 
him as a penitent sinner with themselves, and were will- 
ing to be led by him. 

Between Horace Moore and Matt Bungo a strong, 
strange tie was formed. Our hero had an impression 
that the end of his friend’s service was yet to come, but 
how, or in what direction, he could notimagine. There 
were mysterious signs in Bungo s looks, and occasionally 
by accident, mysterious words were dropped ; but 
Horace was willing to wait, trusting that it would all 
come out in good time. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE SHADOW IN THE POST-OFFICE. 

At Ingleside things moved on through the winter 
quite evenly. Lyon Hargrave drank a great deal of 
brandy, and had much company up from New York. 
Ordinarily a young man in like situation, with a million 
of property at command, and of convivial habits, would 
have squandered his money, but not so the host of 
Ingleside. He was an adept in the art of gaming, and 
among those who accepted his hospitality were many 
young gentlemen of means, who, under the influence of 
rare old wines, and often stronger liquors, played reck- 
lessly, and lost heavily. A few of them suspected, at 
length, the true character of their host, and accepted his 
invitations no more ; but the greater part of them 
thought him “ a glorious fellow,” and paid dearly for 
their association. Occasionally Lyon went down to New 
York for a week or so, showing by his looks, when he 
came home, that the week’s race had been hard and 
fast. 

Toward the servants of the old place Lyon was care- 
less and kind — kind because he had no call to be unkind. 
He had brought up from the city a valet in the person 
of one Dick Bunker, who had been a marker of billiards, 
bar-keeper in a concert saloon, jockey on the race- 
course, and an accomplished dealer at faro, This fellow 

[? 2 ] 


The Shadow in the Post-Office. 


93 


was gentlemanly in his appearance, small of frame, and 
elegantly proportioned, dressing exquisitely, and wear- 
ing diamonds. He jumped at the opportunity of the 
service which the master of Ingleside offered him, and 
be sure he was not an idle spectator of the games of 
hazard which were played in the great drawing-room. 
Dick Bunker was accomplished in more ways than one, 
but those who had looked deepest into his character 
would not have hesitated to assert that his most bril- 
liant accomplishment lay in the way of villainy. Dick 
never drank to intoxication, but Lyon sometimes did ; 
so the man was always at hand to care for the master 
in his helpless moods, and thus the other servants did 
not know the truth of their master’s life. 

With the beginning of the New Year, Lily Merton 
received a letter from Horace Moore. It had been 
brought home by a ship which the Speedwell had met at 
sea, and had been enclosed in a package to Mr. Alfred 
Dwinal. The package had been wet with sea-water, 
and the old merchant had enclosed the letter in a fresh 
envelope, which he superscribed and prepaid with his 
own hand. But for the soil and grime of the sea, and 
the fresh envelope of Mr. Dwinal, with the simple New 
York postmark, Lily might never have got that letter. 

The missive was tender and loving, and told of her 
hero’s adventures to the date of writing. One para- 
graph in it puzzled her, or, at least, exercised her curi- 
osity to a great degree. It was as follows : 

“ I have met with a strange friend since leaving you, 
and stranger things than his friendship are, I think, in 
store for me. At some time I may explain, but at 
present there is mystery in the matter. The temptation 
to tattle is strong, but I must restrain myself until I 
have made assurance doubly sure. Borrow no trouble 


94 


The Spectre s Secret. 


from this, darling. I am safe and well, and, as I have 
told you before, my situation is very pleasant. My 
superiors find me equal to every requirement, and those 
below me have not refused me their respect and obedi- 
ence.” 

Over this paragraph of the very lengthy letter, Lily 
pondered long and anxiously. What did it mean ? She 
feared there was danger somewhere for her lover. But, 
in the end, she could only pray for him, and await 
further developments. She answered the letter, with 
an answer all love and devotion, and then hid the pre- 
cious missive away in her bosom. 

Lyon Hargrave was, through the winter, an occa- 
sional visitor at the attorney’s. He had conceived a 
passion for Lily that was almost insane ; and, since he 
had gained Ingleside, his next desire of life was to gain 
the beautiful girl for his wife. But he was not blind in 
his passion. He knew that his court would be useless 
while Horace Moore was upon the stage. He knew of 
the letter which Lily had received from the sea, and he 
did not want her to receive another. His thoughts upon 
this subject he spoke aloud to himself, as he paced to 
and fro in his library one Sabbath evening, after he 
had learned of the letter. Out of respect to his servants, 
and to his neighbors, and to his position as a Justice of 
the Peace, he kept quiet on the Sabbath. 

Thus he soliloquized : 

“ Sugg does not make quick work. But, why should 
I expect it ? He said himself he might wait for a 
foreign port, perhaps Calcutta. He was only pledged 
that Moore should not come back again. There was 
nothing said about letters. Death and destruction ! he 
will be writing continually until his breath is stopped. 
I must anticipate the taking-off. The game I play for 


The Shadow in the Post-Office. 


95 


now is not to be won off-hand. I must play my cards 
carefully ; but first, I must deal myself a hand that can- 
not be beaten. By — ! I’ll do it !” 

His hands came together with an oath, and then he 
sat down and considered ; and when he had considered, 
he sent for hot water and sugar, and directed Dick to 
bring on the brandy. 

On Monday morning Lyon Hargrave went down to 
the post-office. The postmaster of Oxington w;as a 
store-keeper in a small way, and the office was arranged 
in a corner of his store. The income of the office was 
very slight — scarcely more than enough to pay a man 
for the time consumed in assorting and delivering letters 
and papers, to say nothing of rent. The man’s name 
was Hardy, a man advanced in years, and not over and 
above smart. In fact, there had been many complaints 
concerning his slowness and bungling in the matter of 
distributing the mails. 

Lyon was fortunate enough to find the postmaster in 
his store without a customer. 

“ Mr. Hardy,” he said, smilingly, as he took a seat by 
the old box-stove, “ I have a little matter of business 
which I think will work to your advantage, while, at the 
same time, it will yield satisfaction to me. I have a 
friend in New York, a worthy young man, just gradu- 
ated from college, who wishes to pursue his studies a 
while longer by himself ; and I have thought that he 
could do this better if he had other healthful occupation 
to take up a part of his time. Will you tell me what is 
your yearly income from the post-office ?” 

“ Just about two hundred and fifty dollars, sir. That’s 
what it was last year.” 

“ Well, now see : If you will take my young friend 
into the office, and let him feel that he has entire charge 
—let him, in fact, have entire charge, for I want him to 


9 6 


The Spectre's Secret . 


feel the responsibility, I will pay you two hundred and 
fifty dollars a year rent. I do this out of regard for my 
friend. He is a deserving youth, an orphan, in whom I 
have taken the deepest interest. The Department 
allows you to entrust the affairs of your office to a 
clerk ?” 

“ I may have one clerk,” answered Hardy, “ who must 
be sworn, and for whose good faith I must be respon- 
sible.” 

“ As for the young man’s good faith,” said Lyon, smil- 
ing blandly, “ I will be responsible for it to any amount. 
What say you to my proposition — that is, if, after you 
have seen the young man, you shall like him ?” 

“ Really, Mr. Hargrave, your offer is a most liberal 
one — liberal to me, and liberal to your friend ; and if 
you make it in good faith I accept it cheerfully — that is, 
if, as you say, the young man pleases me. Our office is 
not large, but its duties are as sacred as though its annual 
income was thousands instead of hundreds.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Hardy. You shall see my friend 
within a day or two, and if you conclude to accept him, 
I will fix the rest of the business as you may choose to 
have it.” 

Lyon had arisen, and turned towards the door, when 
he stopped and said, with one of his blandest smiles : 

“ By the way, Mr. Hardy, I don’t care to have all my 
little charities known to the world. I am bothered 
enough as it is. If I choose to assist a worthy young 
man, I don’t know as it is any business of the outer 
world. I would prefer that my name should not be 
mentioned in connection with your appointment of a 
clerk.” 

“ I can appreciate your feelings, Mr. Hargrave,” re- 
turned the old man, with honest sincerity, “and I will 
respect them. Your name shall not be mentioned.” 


The Shadow in the Post-Office . 


97 


“ Thank you, sir.” And with this Lyon Hargrave 
departed. 

Arrived at Ingleside, Lyon summoned his valet. 

“ Do you think,” he asked, “ that you could find Dolph 
Splinter in the city ?” 

“ Yes, sir. I can hit him, sure.” 

“ Dick, I have use for that fellow.” 

“ Eh r 

“ I am going to put him into the post-office, as clerk 
and sole manager. Can you comprehend ?” 

“Aye.” 

Dick Bunker winked knowingly as he spoke. He 
could understand that his master wished to gain control 
of the mails to and from Oxington, but he did not know 
— he . had no clew to the knowledge — what was the chief 
motive. 

“ Will you start off at once, and bring Dolph back 
with you ?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ And tell him to keep mum on the way.” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Here are fifty dollars. You can help Dolph if he 
needs it. Be sure he comes looking well. He is to play 
the part of a college graduate here.” 

“ He can do it, sir ; never fear.” 

“ All right. And now be off.” 

On the evening of the third day from that, Dick 
Bunker returned, and with him came Adolphus Splinter, 
a young man of four-and-twenty, exceedingly trim and 
good-looking, and accounted one of the best billiard 
players in New York. He was of that large class to be 
found in every great city— children of circumstance. 
His brain was clear and ample, and his heart was not 
bad ; but as an orphan in early boyhood he had been 
left to pick his way to manhood as best he could, and 


9 8 


The Spectres Secret. 


his way, without any free choice on his part, had lain 
through quagmires and quicksands. The labor of his 
life had sharpened his wits, and at the same time blunted 
his conscience. His perceptive faculties were largely 
developed, but they had never been exercised in a moral 
direction. 

After supper Lyon Hargrave called Adolphus into 
the library, and freely unfolded to him his plan. In 
conclusion he said : 

“ If you accept the place, Dolph, you can find board 
at the hotel in the village, or in some more retired place, 
if you will, and you may come up here and spend an 
evening when you please. What say you ?'* 

Adolphus accepted the offer without hesitation, and 
promised to keep the faith. He would be true to the 
interests of his friend and patron in the office, and he 
would appear to be as studious as possible. 

On the following morning Lyon took his protege down 
to the village, and introduced him to Mr. Hardy. 

Never had the old gentleman beheld a youth who 
impressed him more favorably. Such meekness and 
intelligence combined were rare. And then the young 
man spoke so sweetly and so correctly. Surely nothing 
coarse, vulgar, or profane, could inhabit so fair a temple. 
At the end of half an hour's conversation Mr. Hardy 
had engaged Adolphus Splinter as his clerk to take 
charge of the post-office, and Lyon Hargrave, Esquire, 
had administered to him the prescribed oath. Touching 
the other matter, having seen the young man, and being 
so well pleased with him, the old gentleman was entirely 
willing to accept Lyon’s word for the payment of the 
stipulated sum as rent. 

Mr. Hardy kept the secret he had promised to Lyon, 
so the outsiders did not know of the young 'Squire’s 
hand in the matter. They only knew the new hand in 


The Shadoiv in the Post-Office . 


99 


the post-office as a college student, seeking partial 
employment of business, while he pursued his studies. 
And the people of Oxington who had occasion to visit 
the post-office were greatly pleased with the change. 
The mail-matter was delivered with a promptness 
before unknown, and the young clerk was as courteous 
and polite as he was expert. The young ladies 
especially were pleased, and in time it came to pass 
that more than one fair damsel lingered longer at the 
office than there was absolute need of. But who can 
wonder ? Not many young men had appeared in 
Oxington like this young man. And a scholar, too. 

The winter wore away, and not another letter came 
to Lily from over the sea. She became anxious and 
alarmed. Surely, some evil had befallen her lover. 

The ice was gone from the river, and the snow had 
melted from the hills, and still no letter. 

The grass grew green ; the trees budded and blos- 
somed, and the letter came not yet. 

And then Lily felt in her heart that evil had fallen. 
She felt its chilling touch. She had applied at the post- 
office every day, but only to receive the same blank 
answer. 

We will do Adolphus Splinter the justice to say that 
more than once his heart smote him sore, and he almost 
wished that he had not accepted his present situation. 
One evening he went up to Ingleside, and delivered to 
Lyon a letter which should have gone to Lily Merton, 
and as he did so, he said : 

“ Lyon, old boy, this is rather tough for me. I can’t 
stand it always. When that girl came to the office 
this afternoon, so anxious and so suffering, I’m blessed 
if I hadn’t half a mind to throw up my commission, and 
give her the letter.” 

“ Don’t be foolish, Dolph. I mean the girl only well. 


IOO 


The Spectres Secret . 


This lover of hers is a nobody — a mere adventurer 
upon the sea,— and it will be a mercy to her to break 
off the match. Look ye, my boy, when that girl is 
my wife I will make you a present of a thousand dollars 
over and above what I have already promised you.” 

“ Oho ! the wind sets in that quarter, does it ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Well, Lyon, I’ll keep the faith now I am in for it, 
but I wish you could contrive some way to stop Miss 
Merton’s coming to the office. Her face haunts me.” 

“ My dear boy, don’t you borrow further trouble. I 
was thinking of that very thing when you came in. It 
is time that the letters were stopped, or, at all events, 
that she should stop going for them. She shall not 
trouble you much more. You will find Dick in the 
billiard-room, I think. Tell him to get you a bottle of 
wine.” 

When Adolphus had gone Lyon Hargrave locked the 
door, and then sat down by the lamp and opened the 
letter which had come so wickedly and so cruelly out 
of its course to him. It was dated at Calcutta. The 
writer was well and prosperous, and he would be happy 
but for one thing. “ I have as yet received but the one 
letter from you. Three ships have come in, with mail- 
bags from the States, but not a letter for me. Oh, dar- 
ling, if you knew how anxiously and how painfully I am 
waiting.” Then further on he wrote : “ I should not 

wonder, darling, if I came home captain of our ship. 
There is another large ship here, the captain and first 
mate of which have died of fever — a ship belonging to 
the same owners as the Speedwell — and Percy may take 
command of her. If he does, I shall .have this grand 
vessel. And, O ! how doubly glad should I be in my 
new position if I had a letter from you to keep my com- 
mission company.” 


The Shadow in the Post-Office . 


IOI 


With an oath Lyon Hargrave started to his feet, and 
crushed the letter in his hand. 

“ Where is Sugg Witkill ?” he cried. “ Moore has not 
mentioned his name once in any of his letters. Is the 
man false, or has he failed ? Sugg is not a coward. Good 
heavens ! he must have had opportunity ere this.” 

Lyon went to the sideboard and swallowed half a tum- 
bler of brandy, and then paced up and down with the 
crushed letter in his hand. At length he stopped. 

“Don’t give up yet?” he said, smiting himself upon 
the breast. “ Sugg said he must wait until they reached 
a foreign port. Let us wait.” 

Then he drank more brandy, and then sat down to the 
table, and drew writing materials towards him. And 
he wrote an article upon a slip of note-paper. And this 
article he copied upon two other slips, after which he sat 
down and awaited the coming of his valet. 

“ Dick,” said he, when that individual made his 
appearance, “ here are three items, or three copies of 
the same item, which I want published in New York 
to-morrow. You will take the early boat and run down. 
You are acquainted with the sub-editors and reporters. 
Will you attend to it ?’* 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Not a word of whence they came.” 

“ I’m not quite a fool, Lyon.” 

“ All right. You have money enough ?” 

“ Plenty.” 

“ Then be off in the first down boat.” 

“ It shall be done, sir.” 

“ Good-night.” 

“ Good-night.” 

And with this Lyon Hargrave drank another glass of 
brandy, and then went to bed. 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE SHADOW UPON LILY MERTON. 

It was on Saturday evening — now in the month of 
August — when the clerk of Mr. Merton brought the 
mail-budget to the house. Lily had not been to the 
post-office for several days. She had not the heart. 
Yet on this Saturday evening she awaited the coming 
of the mail anxiously. There might something come. 
Little dreamed she what ! 

There was no letter for her. She stifled a sob, and 
sat down. Presently she recovered herself, and taking 
a New York paper she looked for the news. Lately she 
had been in the habit of reading the shipping intelli- 
gence, as she often found word therein of American 
vessels in foreign ports. As she read, a paragraph fixed 
her attention, as by a spell, even before she had distin- 
guished a word. She read it. It was as follows : 

“ The painful intelligence comes to us, by way of the 
overland route, via the Mediterranean, of the death of 
Horace Moore, first-mate of the ship Speedwell, of New 
York. He died in Calcutta, of malignant fever. Also 
the captain and first-mate of the American ship Xerxes 
died of the same fatal disease. These three were rfficers 
of surpassing excellence, and their untimely loss will be 
deeply felt.” 

Lily read, and swooned away, and later her father 
[ 102 ] 



The Shadow Upon Lily Merton. 


03 


found her prone upon the floor, with the newspaper 
clutched in her cold grasp. He summoned the assist- 
ance of the female help, and then sent for the doctor. 

The 'blow did not kill. Under careful nursing Lily 
came back to life, and came back to a full realization of 
the calamity which had befallen her. Fever set in, with 
delirium, and the wretched girl sank very low. She 
cared not to get well, though she had no thought of self- 
destruction. 

“ Mary,” she said, one day, to her attendant, “ I would 
rather die than not. I care not to live since Horace is 
dead. I shall meet him in a better world.” 

Mary Carter was a girl of six-and -twenty, or there- 
abouts, who had been in the family since the death of 
Mrs. Merton, now six years. She had proved herself 
faithful and capable, and was a good housekeeper, or, a 
good hand to work, with Lily to manage. She really 
loved her young mistress, and sympathized with her in 
her misfortune and grief, but she could not enter into 
the deeper feeling. Her heart had never been moved 
with such love as Lily had felt, and she knew nothing 
of its glory or its power. She did not like to see her 
lady so cast down, she did not think there was any need 
of it. She thought she would be acting the part of a 
friend to lift her mind from its melancholy brooding. 

“ Indeed, Miss Lily,” she said, with honest sincerity, 
“ there are friends in this world for whom you should 
live. There are many left who love you dearly. It is 
not good that you should be cast down of your own free 
will.” 

“ Mary !” 

“Pardon me, Lily, but you are harming yourself. 
You know for whom you ought to live. Did you not 
promise your mother when she was dying, that you 
would take her place, as far as you could, in the house- 


104 


The Spectre's Secret. 


hold ? Oh ! my dear lady, remember how much you 
owe to others. Let the dark past go, and think of what 
good you may gain in the future.” 

“ Hush, Mary. Say no more now.” 

That evening, Lyon Hargrave called at Mr. Merton’s, 
and he gave to Mary Carter a neatly-folded parcel. 

“ It is a present for you, Mary,” he said ; “ and I give 
it to you for your kindness to Lily. Oh, if I could only 
teach her to love me !” 

Mary honestly sympathized with the man. She 
thought him all he professed to be. He had been very 
kind and very respectful to her, and she could not 
believe that evil was in his heart. 

“ Indeed, sir,” she said, “ if I could influence her that 
way I know I should be influencing her for her good.” 

“ I think you would, Mary. But we must not be too 
abrupt. Help my love, if you can, and your goodness 
shall not be forgotten. Win Lily back to health and 
strength as speedily as possible.” 

Lyon then went into Mr. Merton’s study, where he 
found the old attorney reading. Their conversation at 
that time was not important, save a question and an 
answer at its close. Mr. Merton was fully as anxious 
that his daughter should become the wife of Lyon Har- 
grave, as that gentleman was to make her such. 

“ Look ye, my friend,” said Lyon, after he had put on 
his gloves, “considering that it would be best for all 
concerned that your daughter should become mistress 
of Ingleside, would you be willing to second an innocent 
ruse to that end — that is, supposing that other means 
fail ?” 

“ Anything, Lyon, within the bounds of human reason, 
to make Lily your wife.” 

“ It shall not be a difficult task, Mr. Merton. We will 
perfect our plans in the future if we find need.” 


The Shadow Upon Lily Merton. 105 


And Lyon Hargrave went up to Ingleside, where some 
boon companions from the city were awaiting his com- 
ing for a game at cards. 

A few days after this Lily observed particularly the 
beautiful bouquet of fragrant flowers upon the stand 
between the windows of her chamber. When she came 
to think of it she knew they must be of hot-house culture, 
for the season of such flowers of native growth had 
passed. 

“ Mary,” she said, “ you are very kind to me. And 
others must be kind. Does my father bring those flow- 
ers ?” 

“No, Lily. They do not come from your father.” 

“ Who sends them ?” 

“ Can you not guess ?” 

“ Is it—” 

“Who ?” 

The sick girl started up to a sitting posture, and a 
bright red flush was upon her cheek. 

“ Is it — Lyon Hargrave ?” 

“Yes, Miss Lily. Oh, you don’t know. how that poo± 
man sorrows for you — how he mopes and moans.” 

Mary Carter was trying, perhaps, to pay for the bright 
new silk dress she had found in the package which Lyon 
had given her. 

“Mr. Hargrave has been here almost every day, 
and—” 

Lily interrupted her by a gesture. 

“ Let me take the bouquet, Mary.” 

Still sitting up in her bed the sick girl took the fra- 
grant flowers from the hand of her attendant, and, with 
true precision, hurled them out at the open window. 

“ No more ! no more !” she gasped ; and then sank 
back exhausted. 

Mary was frightened ; but the paroxysm did not prove 


io6 


The Spectre s Secret . 


a serious one. On the contrary, it acted as a healthful 
stimulant to the invalid’s dormant energies. She had 
found something to excite her combativeness, and to 
start afresh the current of her life. 

“ Be not alarmed,” she said, when she had regained 
her breath. “ I am not faint ; but I shall faint — I shall 
go mad — if you suffer another flower from that man’s 
hands to enter my chamber. Oh, Mary, you don’t know 
how I loathe, how I dread Lyon Hargrave. Hush ! you 
don’t know him yet. Say no more now ; and, if you love 
me, speak not his name to me again,” 

What could Mary Carter do ? She could not yet 
believe evil of Lyon Hargrave, nor could she willingly 
wound and pain the mistress whom she truly loved ; so 
she held her peace, trusting that returning strength 
would bring with it to the invalid a clearer perception 
of her own interests. To the blunt and homely under- 
standing of the housemaid only a woman bereft of 
sense would wantonly cast away such a prize as was 
offered in the mistress-ship of Ingleside. 

For some days after that Mary received the flowers 
which Lyon Hargrave brought, or sent, and held her 
peace. She dared not carry them to Lily’s room, and 
she had not the heart to tell the donor the fate of his 
floral offerings. But the confession could not be long 
delayed. One day Lyon asked her if Lily had yet 
spoken of the flowers ; and then, with a gulp, and with 
great effort, Mary told the truth. She did not know 
how to lie. 

Lyon Hargrave stamped his foot with rage, and an 
oath came near slipping from his lips, but he caught 
the expression of Mary Carter’s face in season, and 
held back the profane words. 

“ Pardon me, Mary,” he said. “ It was a sore blow.” 

“ Of course it was, sir,” cried the maid, sympathiz- 


The Shadow Upon Lily Merton. 107 


ingly ; “and I would have helped it if I could. But 
the young lady is not herself. Wait, sir. Her heart is 
yet sore. Time may work wonders.” 

But Lyon saw more clearly. He did not think he 
could win Lily’s love, nor her confidence. This made 
him angry, and he swore that the fair, stubborn girl 
should be his wife if she lived. In his rage and 
chagrin he was capable of doing anything. He went 
home, sat down at the table in the library, and when 
Dick Bunker came in his only remark was : 

“ Bring me some hot water and some sugar, and then 
leave me.” 

The hot water and the sugar were brought, and then 
Lyon was left alone. He mixed a hot brandy toddy, 
and drank it, and then mixed and drank another. 
Then he arose and paced to and fro. 

“ I think,” he finally said, stopping in his walk, and 
pressing his fingers upon his brow, “ that Mr. Merton 
is in want of money. He plainly intimated to me, not 
many days ago, that he must raise a thousand dollars 
this month. I think I can throw the money in his way.” 

He went to the old cabinet, or secretary, and from 
one of the inner drawers he took a package of neatly 
folded papers, from which he selected half a dozen or 
so, and put them into his pocket-book. The others he 
restored to the drawer, and then, having drunk more 
brandy, he went up into the billiard-room. 

On the following morning Lyon soaked his head in 
cold water, and drank brandy and soda, and he flat- 
tered himself, when the brandy had reached his brain, 
that he was as good as new. Poor fool he, and poor 
fools all, for thinking so ! Go, my fast-living youth, 
and ask the man who has been through the mill how he 
likes the result. See him, at middle-age, when the real 
comforts of life ought to be opening to him the way of 


The Spectre s Secret. 


108 


peace and joy, broken and pain-stricken — his stomach 
a mere wreck and a seat of endless pains, and the very 
light of nature turned blue and sulphurous. Ah, it is 
a heavy penalty you must pay for these early drafts 
upon nature’s powers, and be sure the bill will be pre- 
sented — and be presented, too, by an agent who has 
the full, fell power to enforce payment. Go on if you 
will ; only know that the day of reckoning must come. 

Aye, Lyon Hargrave, when the soda had stirred the 
stomach, and the alcohol had mounted to the brain, 
felt as good as new, and when he had eaten his break- 
fast he walked down to Oxington, and called at the 
office of Asher Merton, Esq., whom he found alone. For 
a time, the visitor led the conversation in ordinary 
channels, chatting pleasantly and smilingly. At length 
he took from his pocket-book a package of folded 
papers, saying, as he did so : 

“ Mr. Merton, here are notes and accounts left by my 
uncle which should be settled. Will you look them 
over, and tell me if you think you can collect any of 
them ? Of course I am not particularly in need of the 
money, but I do not like that such matters should 
stand too long unsettled.” 

The attorney took the papers, seven in number, and 
when he had examined them he selected four as good. 

“ These,” said he, “ I think I can collect ; but the 
other three, I fear, are bad eggs.” 

“ What is the amount of those you consider good ?” 

Merton figured awhile upon a piece of paper, and 
finally announced : 

“The amount, principal and interest, is two thousand 
and ten dollars. ” 

“ And you think you can collect that ?” 

“ I do.” 

“ Then you may go at it as soon as you please.” 


The Shadow Upon Lily Merton. 109 


Lyon had taken his hat and arisen as if to depart, 
when he stopped, and with a smiling nod, remarked : 

“ It is a delicate subject, Mr. Merton, but I may say 
to you that any assistance I can render to one who is to 
become to me as a father, I shall not withhold. I think 
you understand me.” 

If the attorney understood, he made the wish father 
to the thought, and understood as his own necessities 
dictated. 

“ I think I understand,” he said. 

“ All right,” responded Lyon, heartily. “ So you will 
make it for your own interest to collect as much of that 
money as possible.” 

And with this he took his leave. 

And while he wends his way back to Ingleside, let us 
look for a moment in at the post-office. 

Master Adolphus Splinter, as we have before intim- 
ated, had not a bad heart. Left to its own instincts the 
humane part of it predominated. By this time he 
thoroughly understood Hargrave’s plot against Lily 
Merton ; and he had suspected from the first that the 
announcement of the death of Horace Moore had been 
of Lyon’s fabricating, though he was not positively 
sure. His heart had fairly ached at sight of Lily’s 
misery, and when he heard of her sickness he felt that 
he had helped to contribute thereto. It was not for him 
a pleasant thought. He had come to regard the stricken 
maiden as something sacred — something far above the 
women whom he had known elsewhere— and when he 
thought of such a being, so pure and so good, forced 
j[o wed with Lyon Hargrave, he shuddered to the very 
core. 

On this very morning when Lyon carried the papers 
to Mr. Merton, Adolphus had in his possession a letter 
from over the sea— a letter bearing the Calcutta post- 


I IO 


The Spectre s Secret . 


mark, and also the post-mark of the royal mail steamer 
from Bristol. He had had this letter four days. He 
had pledged his word to his employer that no such let- 
ter should reach Lily Merton, and he would not break 
that word. It did not add to his happiness thus far to 
keep faith with Hargrave, but he had made the leap, 
and he felt that he must hold his ground, however 
unpleasant and ungrateful it might be. 

But he had not pledged his word that he would 
deliver all letters directed to Lily Merton up to Lyon 
Hargrave. Of course such had been the understanding, 
implied as a part of the contract, but it had not been 
explicitly set forth as the other part had been. In short, 
Adolphus Splinter was willing to tamper with the prin- 
ciple of “ honor among thieves ” in behalf of humanity. 
He had already lied to his employer in telling him that 
no letter had come, while, at the very time of the decla- 
ration, he had such a letter in his possession. 

Late on the evening of that day, when Adolphus was 
alone, and after much travail of soul, he broke the seal 
of the letter from over the sea directed to Lily Merton, 
and he read it from beginning to end. Its burden was 
undying love ; sorrow at not hearing from the absent 
darling ; with hope and bright promise for the future. 
The writer was captain of a noble ship, and he had 
taught his crew to love him. 

“ My soul !” cried Adolphus, twisting the letter in his 
hand, “ what would Lily Merton give for this bit of 
paper ? Not all the medicine of all the doctors in the 
world could uplift her as could this.” 

A brief pause, and then he continued : 

“ She cannot have it. I will keep faith with Lyon 
thus far ; but, by heaven ! he shall never see it, nor 
shall he see another if I can help it. He may think 
what he pleases of the stoppage of the letters, but he 


The Shadow Upon Lily Merton. 


1 1 1 


shall not have them. So far as I can prevent it he shall 
not be armed against the poor girl with a knowledge of 
the movements of her true lover.” 

And Adolphus Splinter was true to his resolve. 

By and by, Lyon Hargrave heard that another foreign 
mail had arrived in New York with letters from India. 
He went to the post-office to see if a letter had come 
for Lily Merton. 

“ Not a letter,” said Adolphus. 

“ The mail has come up from New York ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ And this makes the third mail bringing Indian let- 
ters since one came for Miss Merton ?”, 

“ The third— yes.” 

And Lyon Hargrave went away with a look of malig- 
nant triumph upon his dark face. He entered the 
library at Ingleside, and sat down with a bottle of 
brandy at his elbow, and a glass in his hand ; and as he 
drank he muttered to himself : 

“ Sugg Witkill must have done his work. Farewell to 
you, Mr. Horace Moore !” 



CHAPTER X. 
lily’s promise. 

The cool and grateful days of September had come. 
The ripening grain was bowing its sunny head to the 
sweeping breeze, and the opening husks were revealing 
the golden corn. The banks of the beautiful Hudson 
were teeming with rich return to the thrifty husband- 
men, and the passers upon the river could see the blush- 
ing fruit in masses thick and rare, looking out from 
amid the foliage. 

And with the coming of the genial season, the health 
and strength of Lily Merton had returned. She was yet 
pale, and marks of melancholy were upon her face ; but 
her eyes had regained their wonted lustre, and the 
cheeks were not hollow as they had been. 

One evening as she sat alone in her work-room, her 
father came in and sat by her side. There was a cloud 
upon his brow, and his movements were nervous and 
uneasy. 

“ My child,” he said, with his hands clutched upon his 
knees, “ I have come to talk seriously with you. The 
time for trifling is past.” 

The ice thus broken, he paused and took breath, and 
then went on more freely : 

“ Whatever may once have been your feelings towards 

[H2] 


Lily's Promise. 


13 


Horace Moore, it cannot matter now. He is long since 
passed from the stage of existence, and you have had 
ample time for proper reflection. Had he lived, I doubt 
if he could have been anything to you ; but dead, you 
should forget him. And now, Lily, you must give me 
your respectful attention. You know that I am about 
to speak of Lyon Hargrave. Do not turn away, but 
listen to me. You cannot say that Lyon has intruded 
himself upon you. Loving you as he does, has he not 
rather been wonderfully forbearing ? He offers you his 
hand, and will make you the proud and honored mistress 
of Ingleside. His heart you have possessed since first 
he knew you. Can you not be reasonable, my child, and 
turn your heart to him ?” 

“ Turn my heart to Lyon Hargrave !” pronounced 
Lily, with a shudder that prevaded her whole frame. 
“ Could you turn your heart to that which you utterly 
loathed and despised ?” 

“ Lily, I cannot hear you speak thus. You have no 
cause for such loathing. Lyon has been towards you all 
that is honorable and loving.” 

“ Honorable he can never be,” retorted the girl, 
quickly ; “ and his love is more dangerous than his hate. 
If you love me, father, let this subject drop. Oh, if you 
care for me one bit, mention not his name in my hearing 
again !” 

Asher Merton was slightly discomfited by this out- 
burst, but he quickly regained himself, and the cloud 
upon his brow deepened and darkened. 

“ Lily,” he said, very slowly, and with the tremulous- 
ness of strong emotion, “ if you will not listen to reason, 
perhaps you will listen to the call of stern necessity. 
What will you do if I am taken from you ?” 

“ Taken from me ? — you ?” 

“ Aye, if I am taken from you ?” 


The Spectre s Secret. 


114 


“ Surely, my father,” with a bewildered look, “ I do 
not understand you.” 

“ And yet, my child, the thing may happen if you do 
not put forth your hand to save me.” 

“ My father,” cried Lily, seizing his arm, “ what do 
you mean ? What new horror is this ?” 

“ It need not be a horror at all, Lily. You have it in 
your power to make it a blessing.” 

“ In mercy’s name, what is it ?” 

“ Listen, my child, and you shall know. I had hoped 
that I might not be reduced to this extremity, but you 
have forced me to the revelation. You are aware that 
upon the death of Walter Hargrave I was indebted to 
him to a large amount, over six thousand dollars, for 
money borrowed. Those notes Lyon, of course, holds. 
But under that claim he could only seize upon my vis- 
ible property ; and you know that were I to-day stripped 
of every penny I own, it could not satisfy that claim, 
nor the half of it. But there is another more serious. 
Not many weeks since Lyon placed certain accounts in 
my hands for collection. I collected thereon two thous- 
and dollars, and that money — ” 

“ That money, father, what ?” 

“Oh, my child, I meant no wrong. I thought so 
surely that your heart would turn in time to Lyon, that 
—that—” 

“ You used the money ?” 

“Yes, I used the money. I was hard pressed — very, 
very hard, and I thought — O ! I thought — ” 

“That my hand would cancel the bond?” cried Lily, 
starting to her feet, and standing before her father with 
pale cheek and burning eyes. “You would sacrifice 
your child to the base use of trade ! You would put 
the life of your own — ” 


Lily's Promise . 


”5 


Asher Merton put forth his hands so beseechingly 
that Lily stopped. 

“ Oh, my dear, dear child,” he said, with his hands 
extended and clasped together, “ I did not think thus, as 
God is my judge, I did not ! I fully believed, when the 
first pang of your grief had passed, that you would will- 
ingly become mistress of Ingleside. Sit down, Lily. 
Don’t stand there.” 

Lily resumed her seat, and her father proceeded : 

“ Lyon has confided all his love — all his hopes — all 
his fond and glowing aspirations, to me, and I have 
sympathized with him deeply. I could not help it. 
You may say that my wish has been father to my 
thought. I shall not deny it ; but I can assert that the 
wish was bora of a most devout and earnest desire for 
the good of my child. Had Horace lived I might have 
withheld my aspiring hopes, but when I knew you had 
no other near heart-tie of earth, I dared to hope that 
you would, in time, answer the love of Lyon Hargrave.” 

Lily, by a great effort, had somewhat calmed herself, 
and when she next spoke her voice was low and steady, 
though yet bearing the note of pain. 

“ Do you mean,” she said, “ that you have laid your- 
self liable to arrest and imprisonment ?” 

“ It is too true, my child. Oh, do not blame me too 
severely. I thought no harm when I did it, and I meant 
no wrong. Lyon and I had talked so much of his love, 
and of his hopes of wedding you, that I had already 
come to regard him as a son-in-law ; and when I had 
that money in my possession — money which I knew he 
did not need for use, and when I was pressed well nigh 
to distraction, I used it. Under the statute it may be 
made a crime, and if I cannot repay it, I must— must, 
go—” 


The Spectre s Secret. 


1 1 6 


“ Hush ! Answer me another question : Will Lyon 
Hargrave do this thing ?" 

“ If all hope of winning your hand is denied him, he 
will surely do it." 

“ And thus he would show his love for me !" 

“ Ah, my child, you do not know all the secrets of the 
human heart. You must not set the instincts of your 
own heart up as a test. Lyon can love most deeply, 
but he is not a saint. You should know that warmest 
love, under strong and aggravating provocation, may 
be turned to deadliest hate — that is, with some natures. 
After this long and anxious waiting Lyon may be 
driven to desperation, if he finds himself finally and 
coldly cast off. He has the blood of his Italian mother 
in his veins ; and though I believe he could be most 
kind in love, I know he can be most vengeful in anger 
and hate." 

Lily arose, and paced several times across the narrow 
apartment. At length she stopped before her father. 

“ In one word, my father," she said, in a hushed, 
frightened tone, “ if I will not give my hand to Lyon 
Hargrave, he will cast you into prison ?" 

“ I fear he will." 

“ He has the power ?" 

“ Yes, my child, he has the power, and no effort I can 
make can avert the blow." 

“ Then let me think. Say no more at this time. I 
am not fit to talk now. To-morrow evening come to me 
again. Hush ! No more now." 

Asher Merton left his daughter’s presence bowed 
and stricken. He loved the dear girl as deeply as he 
was capable of loving anything, and at that moment he 
sorrowed and moaned because he had not money 
enough to pay off Lyon Hargrave’s claim, and let him 
go. The last thing to touch his heart had been his 


Lily s Promise. 


117 


daughter’s anguish, and he held in that mood until 
another influence came. 

An hour later Lyon Hargrave appeared in the 
attorney’s study. He was respectful and polite, and 
still appeared anxious. Had Mr. Merton held the 
promised interview with his daughter ? 

Yes. And Merton related what had transpired. He 
did not repeat Lily’s speech wherein she gave her esti- 
mate of the suitor’s character, but he gave all that was 
necessary. 

“ She may relent, after all,” said Lyon, hopefully ; 
“ and if she does, not only shall she be proud, honored 
and happy, but you, my dear sir, shall know no more of 
financial trouble.” 

And now the sympathies of Asher Merton were tilt- 
ing over upon the side of Lyon Hargrave, and the 
direction of his unspoken prayer was changed. Instead 
of wishing that he had money enough to pay Lyon’s 
claim, and let him go, he wished that his daughter 
might come to her senses, and become mistress of Ingle- 
side. 

When her father had gone Lily Merton went into her 
chamber, and sat down before a painted picture of her 
mother. It was a sweet, mild face that looked out 
from the canvass — a face that told whence the child had 
derived her beauty. 

“ Oh ! my sainted mother !” she cried, with folded 
hands upraised, “ if you can look down upon me now, 
let your sweet influence guide me ! Oh ! I need help 
very much.” 

After a time she sat down, with her head bowed 
upon her hand, and tried to think. Should she sacri- 
fice herself to save her father ? Had her father won 
the right to demand such sacrifice ? Had Heaven made 
it her duty to grant the sacrifice, whether merited or 


The Spectre s Secret . 


118 


not ? And to what would the sacrifice lead her ? To a 
life-long union with Lyon Hargrave ! 

She looked again upon the picture of her mother, and 
the thought came to her that she had not only a mother 
in the Better World, but that another was there whom 
she might meet and love while eternity should last. 
And then came a wild, surging thought under the 
weight of which she broke entirely down. She dared 
think no more that night. So she sought her pillow, 
and tried to sleep. 

On the following day Lily walked away across the 
fields into the deep wood back of Oxington. All day 
long she was in motion, and not until the shadows of 
evening had fallen did she sit down to rest. When the 
candles were lighted she had become calm and quiet, 
but with a calmness and quietness that was cold and 
stern. 

When her father came to her she asked him if he 
still wished that she should become the wife of Lyon 
Hargrave. 

“ For your own good, my child, I wish it,” he 
answered. 

“ O !” she cried, indignantly, “ put not my good into 
that scale. Answer me directly and honestly. On 
your own account do you wish me to marry with Lyon 
Hargrave ?” 

The attorney hesitated, but finally answered : 

“ Yes, Lily, if you will have it so ; . for my sake I 
would have you become his wife. But, my child, did I 
not truly believe — ” 

“ Hush ! Say no more. I have your wish, and I 
know its source ; and now take my answer. In one 
year from the day on which Horace left me, if both you 
and Lyon Hargrave shall then demand it, I will become 
Lyon Hargrave’s wife.” 


Lily s Promise . 


1 19 


« Lily !” 

“ That is my answer.” 

“ Do you remember the day you mention ?” 

“ Yes. It was the twenty-third day of December.” 

“ Then he must wait more than three months ?” 

“And is that long? You will remember that his 
proposal is now for the first time received by me.” 

“ But, my child — ” 

Lily put out her hand, and arose to her feet. She 
looked queenly as she stood there, and her father 
quailed beneath the intense light of her steady eyes. 

“ My father,” she said, “ I told you I would give you 
my answer this evening. I have spent a night and a 
day in prayerful thought, and the answer is given. I 
have some rights left to me, and I will not surrender 
them. You may choose the manner of sacrifice, but I 
will choose the time. Go and tell Lyon Hargrave what 
I have said ; and if, after that, he sends you to prison, 
I will either go with you, or I will go begging upon my 
knees to those who have the power of mercy and pardon. 
Go. I have said all.” 

And from that time Lily Merton moved about like one 
in a dream, cold and heart-broken, with no care for life, 
looking only to the shadowy land beyond the vale for 
rest. 

As for Mr. Merton, he did not meet with the rebuff 
he had feared. When he had- told to Lyon his daughter’s 
ultimatum, that young gentleman seemed perfectly 
satisfied. 

“ It is just the thing,” he said, tapping the attorney 
familiarly upon the shoulder. “ It will bring our 
wedding at Christmas time. We could not name it 
better. Let us hope that Lily thought of this when she 
named that day.” 

And Asher Merton tried to smile, and tried to think— 


20 


The Spectres Secret. 


or tried to make it appear that he thought — that Lily 
had had her mind thus directed. But he made poor 
work of it. And yet, in the end, he felt more at ease 
than he had felt for a long time. He told himself that 
his child would be happy, in time, as mistress of Ingle- 
side, and this he had cherished in his mind so long that 
he had really come to believe it. Regarding Lyon 
Hargrave as the master of a million of money he had 
forgotten the shortcomings of youth, and had failed to 
detect the dark spots in the present. Very few, if any, 
are entirely free from bias of some kind ; and when we 
consider Asher Merton’s weakness, and his pecuniary 
situation, we shall not much wonder that he was 
anxious to marry his daughter to a millionaire. 

When Lyon Hargrave reached Ingleside he found 
Adolphus Splinter in the billiard-room. When the 
game then in process had been concluded, he called 
him down into the library. He felt fresh anxiety now 
concerning Horace Moore. 

“ Has there been any letter, of late, for Lily Merton ?” 
he asked. 

“ Not a letter,” said Adolphus, unblushingly. 

“There have been foreign mails within a week ?” 

“ Yes, two of them.” 

“ She shall not have a letter which does not pass 
through my hands ?” 

“ I swear it !” And Adolphus swore honestly. 

And on the very next day he delivered to Lyon two 
letters for Lily Merton, one bearing the Albany post- 
mark, and the other from New Haven. Lyon loosened 
the seals with steam, and having found who the writers 
were, he resealed them, and gave them back ; and that 
evening Lily received friendly letters from two of her 
old school-mates. 

Adolphus had sworn that Lily Merton should receive 


Lily s Promise . 


12 1 


no letters which did not pass through Lyon’s hands ; 
but within the week another letter had come from over 
the sea. This letter he did not read. He simply 
opened it, and saw that it was from Horace Moore, and 
then hid it away. He had begun to chafe under his 
yoke. The position, even to him, was humiliating. 
And yet he would not entirely betray the man who had 
given him his confidence, nor would he entirely serve 
him. As he had said before, so he said again : 

“If Lilly Merton cannot read the letters of her true 
love, by heavens ! Lyon Hargrave shall not read them !” 

For two weeks Lyon did not visit the house of the 
attorney, but on the Sabbath evening following he 
ventured to call. He found Mr. Merton alone, and 
after a time he asked for Lily. The host said he would 
go and speak with her. 

In a little while Merton returned with a troubled 
look. 

“ My daughter does not feel well, Mr. Hargrave, and 
she begs to be excused !” 

“ Does not feel well enough to see me ?” said Lyon, 
biting his lips. 

“ Indeed, my dear boy, we must trust to time. There 
is no use in my trifling with you. You know the girl. 
She will come around by and by.” 

“ Never mind,” returned Lyon. “ So she keeps her 
promise I care not for the rest. Only— she should know 
that she cannot commence to smooth the way of her 
married life too soon ! It might be well if you made 
her understand this.” 

Mr. Merton said he would seek to impress this self- 
evident fact upon his daughter’s mind. 

A few days after this, in the beginning of October, 
Adolphus came up to Ingleside, bringing another letter 


122 


The Spectre s Secret . 


addressed to Lily Merton. It bore the post-mark of 
Rollington. 

“ Where is Rollington ?” asked Lyon, after he had 
made out the mark. 

“ It is some forty or fifty miles to the west of us, near 
the Delaware River,” answered Adolphus, who had 
become quite thoroughly posted in the geography of 
the State. 

Lyor broke the seal, and ran his eyes hastily over the 
opening sentences of the letter, and then glanced at the 
bottom and read the name of the writer. An oath 
burst from his lips as the hand which held the letter 
dropped upon his knee. But he recovered himself 
quickly, and said to Adolphus, with a light laugh : 

“ It is from an old flame. I think I shall hand it to 
the lady myself. What say you to a game of bil- 
liards ?” 

Adolphus was willing, and having drunk some brandy, 
they adjourned to the billiard-room. But Lyon played 
badly, and soon gave up his cue to Dick Bunker. 



CHAPTER XI. 

THE SHADOWS THICKEN ! 

Once more alone in his library, Lyon Hargrave 
closed and locked the door, drank more brandy, and 
then took from his pocket the letter which Adolphus had 
brought to him, and sat down with it by the shaded 
lamp. In the previous hasty perusal he had gained a 
knowledge of its general drift. The handwriting was 
bold and strong, though quite neat and proper, and it 
might have passed for the work of man or woman. 
Having opened the missive a second time, the master 
of Ingleside read carefully as follows : 

“ Rollington, October 3^, 1841. 

“ My Dear Miss Merton : — On this calm Sabbath 
evening, with my heart bare before my Maker, and 
after much anxious thought, I sit down to write to you, 
freely and truthfully, just as I would write to a dear 
sister. If I shall appear to take an unwarranted 
liberty, I am sure you will pardon me. 

“ Lily Merton, word has reached me in this far-away 
place, it came by an old servant from Ingleside who 
paid me a visit, that you had promised your hand to 
Lyon Hargrave, and that you were to be married on 
Christmas day. At first 1 doubted, but the proof at 
length came so strong that I was forced to believe. 
And, my dear girl, I can imagine the influence which 

[123] 


124 


The Spectre s Secret . 


has been brought to bear upon you, knowing, as I do, 
the hold which Lyon has upon your father in a pecuni- 
ary way. O ! how foul is the wrong thus done. The 
last words which Walter Hargrave spoke in life were 
spoken to Horace Moore and myself. To Horace he 
said that the debt of Lily’s father should be forgiven. 
He said that Lily was a blessed girl. He had sent for 
me to be present while he gave further important busi- 
ness directions, but he died without giving them. Yet, 
from the above, you can judge whom he regarded as 
his heir and executor. I know that Lyon Hargrave is 
not justly the heir of Ingleside. 

“And now let me tell you of one more thing of which 
I am fully assured. If you have really promised your 
hand to Lyon Hargrave, I must believe you have done 
so under the conviction that Horace Moore is dead. 
But I am sure he is not dead. I saw the article in the 
newspaper announcing his death, and also the death of 
two officers of the ship Xerxes. But in two weeks after 
reading that article, I received a letter from Horace 
Moore, dated at Calcutta, in which he informed me that 
he had been appointed to the command of his ship. 
That letter must have been written after the published 
date of his death. In truth, Lily, there is not only mys- 
tery in this matter, but I believe there is great wicked- 
ness. I can see in it the hand of Lyon Hargrave. If 
you are mourning the death of your true love, do not 
yet despair. What may have happened since he wrote 
to me I cannot tell ; but I know that the announcement 
of his death, as published in the papers, was false. 

“ I have been very sick with fever, or I should have 
seen you ere this. My mother is now sick, and I must 
nurse her ; but she is improving, and as soon as I can 
leave her, I shall come- to you. Oh ! Lily Merton, I 
know that Horace loves you with all his heart and 


The Shadows Thicken. 


125 


soul, and I know that his very life is bound up in you. 
And I cannot believe that you have ceased to love him. 
As God lives, I believe that Horace Moore lives. Wait 
until you see me. I will be with you in two weeks, or 
in three, at the furthest ; and if there is wrong and 
wickedness which I can sift out, I will not rest until it 
is done. Take heart, Lily, and believe me your true 
and devoted friend, 

“ Edith Somerby.” 

Lyon Hargrave read this letter through twice, and 
then rolled it, and clutched it in his hand as he might 
have clutched a viper which he must strangle. He 
remembered Edith Somerby, he knew her very well — 
knew her for a shrewd clear-headed, thoughtful woman, 
bold and fearless in the way of duty. And he knew 
that she knew him, that she had known him for years, 
that she had been his uncle’s confidante and often coun- 
selor, and that she could be firm and persevering when 
she chose. 

With a fierce oath he started to his feet, still strang- 
ling the letter in his hand. 

“ I should have looked to that woman before,” he 
muttered, as he strode across the apartment, and then 
stopped. “ I should have been mindful of the danger. 
Of all who were present when my uncle’s will was 
searched for she alone maintained a firm defiance of the 
result.” Another oath, and then : “ She must be looked 
to. She must never see Lily Merton. I am not safe 
with that woman living !” 

The excitement had used up the stimulant he had 
taken, and Lyon went to the sideboard and drank two 
glasses of brandy in quick succession, after which he 
paced up and down the room for a long time. At length 
he sat down by the lamp, and smoothed out the letter, 


1 26 


The Spectre s Secret. 


and read it again. Then he leaned his head upon his 
hand, and reflected. 

It was nearly midnight when Lyon Hargrave folded 
the letter and placed it in his pocket-book ; and when 
he arose from his seat the expression upon his dark face 
was lowering and vengeful. It boded ill to somebody. 
He stood awhile, with head bowed and hands clasped ; 
then he drank more brandy, and then went to his 
chamber. 

On the following morning Lyon turned over the care 
of the house to Dick Bunker, remarking that he had 
business in New York. The valet received the order 
without asking any questions. He saw that his master 
was stern and moody, and he knew that something of 
more than usual import had happened. He thought it 
might be money matters. He could think of nothing 
more serious than that. Used himself to being straight- 
ened, and remembering well when he had seen Lyon 
“dead broke,” he could not fully understand that 
circumstance of fortune which lifted a man completely 
out from the way of want of money. 

At the post-office Lyon stopped, and spoke privately 
with Adolphus. 

“ Be dead sure that not a letter of any kind reaches 
Miss Merton until I get back,” was his word of direc- 
tion, after he had stated his destination. 

Adolphus promised that the order should be obeyed. 

“Do not borrow any trouble,” he added, honestly. 
“ I can swear to you that since I came into the office 
Miss Merton has not received a letter through the mail 
that has not been first submitted to you.” 

“ All right, Dolph ; but be particularly careful while 
I am gone. Do not let anybody look over your shoulder 
while you are assorting the mails.” 

Adolphus, when he had seen his master depart, did 


The Shadows Thicken. 


127 


not think exactly as did Dick Bunker. He believed 
that this sudden trip had something to do with the 
letter which he had delivered on the previous evening ; 
and so lively was his curiosity that in the afternoon, 
when he had two hours to spare from the office, he 
walked up to Ingleside, and sought opportunity to 
speak with one of the old servants — a woman who had 
been in the cook’s department for years, and to whom 
he had brought several letters. 

“ Nelly,” said he, in an easy, off-hand way, after he 
had begged and drunk a tumbler of milk, “ do you know 
anybody that lives in Rollington ?” 

• “ Off on the Delaware, d’ye mean ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ I know one. Edith Somerby lives there. She used 
to be our mistress. She was the old master’s house- 
keeper.” 

“ What sort of a woman was she ?” 

“Well, sir, she was what I call a good woman. 
Everything went smoothly where she was.” 

“ Why didn’t the young master keep her ?” 

** I couldn’t tell you, sir.” 

“ Have you never had your thoughts about it ?” 

“You mustn’t ask me, sir.” 

“ How did this Edith Somerby feel toward Horace 
Moore ?” 

“ She loved him as the apple of her eye, sir, not as 
some thought she loved, for I know that her heart was 
buried with that love long ago ; but she loved him as 
a mother loves her child, or as a sister might love an 
only brother.” 

“And I don’t doubt that you loved this Horace 
Moore ?” 

“ How could I help it, sir ? Oh, he was so kind, and so 


128 


The Spectres Secret. 


good, and so cheerful and smiling always ! We all loved 
him, sir.” 

“ And you all thought that he was to be the heir of 
Ingleside ?” 

“ Indeed we did, sir. But it was not so to be. Our 
master must have changed his mind at the last moment. 
But Horace bore it bravely. He never complained. 
He bore it better than Mistress Somerby did. She isn’t 
satisfied to this day. She don’t believe — ” 

“ Don’t believe what ?” 

“ Never mind, sir. It is none of my business.” 

“Good Nelly, won’t you give me another glass of 
milk ?” 

“ Indeed, sir, you shall have as much as you want.” 

“ And when another letter comes from your brother 
I’ll bring it up to you.” 

Adolphus drank the milk, and departed ; and the 
chains of his servitude galled more sorely than before. 

In the meantime Lyon Hargrave had taken the boat 
for New York, where he arrived in the afternoon. His 
first movement, on landing, was to his old club-house, 
where he got dinner, and where he spent his time until 
evening. He drank lightly, and did not play. When it 
was dark he borrowed of one of the attendants a light 
box-coat and a jockey cap, and set forth toward the East 
River. He found the sign of the “ Foul Anchor,” and 
sought the rear entrance, by way of the low, dark arch, 
where he was forced to press the spring that took the 
place of a bell-pull. The summons was answered by a 
man who opened the door just a crack, and asked who 
was there. 

“All is right and tight, Cerberus,” answered the 
applicant. 

The door was opened, and the visitor entered the little 
dirty parlor. 


The Shadows Thicken . . 


129 


“ Eh ! Lyon Hargrave, as I live ! Bless you, old boy, 
it’s good for sore eyes to see you.” 

“ It’s me, Jo, and you may bring me a bottle of wine. 
And, mind you, not a word to a soul outside that I am 
here.” 

“ Don’t you fear, sir. We never tell who’s in the 
parlor. You should know that by this time.” 

“ I know you are careful, Jo. Let the wine be of the 
best.” 

“ I think Madeira is your kind, sir ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ That’s got the quiet snap to it ; and we’ve got some 
that’s honest. Jack Tugby brought it over himself, and 
it got slipped out o’ the forecastle without the sniff of 
the customs.” 

Jo went away, and soon returned with a bottle and 
two glasses on a Japanned waiter. 

“ You’ve brought a glass for yourself, eh ?” said Lyon, 
smiling. 

“ No, sir, not particularly. I always bring a gentle- 
man glasses enough for company, even if he don’t 
want ’em.” 

“ All right, Jo. Sit down and drink. I want to ask 
you a question.” 

Jo wiped the neck of the bottle and drew the cork, 
and then sat down, and when they had filled their glasses 
Lyon asked : 

“ Can you tell me anything of Molly Dowd ?” 

“ Yes, sir, she was in here not an hour ago.” 

“ And where is Matt Bungo ?” 

“ I don’t know, sir. He dropped out suddenly, almost 
a year ago, and I haven’t seen or heard from him since.” 

“ Dropped out ?” repeated Lyon, in surprise. 

“Yes, sir; and all I know about it is this: Matt 
came in here one night badly shaken up. He’d had a 


130 


The Spectre s Secret . 


scrimmage on the dock, and I fancy, from what 
he said, that he’d used his knife. At all events, he dis- 
appeared the next day, and I haven’t heard a lisp of 
him since. It’s my opinion that he cleared out to slip 
the police.” 

On the whole, Lyon was not sorry. If Matt was 
gone for good, there could be no danger of his coming 
down for blackmail, a thing which the gentleman had 
more than once thought of and feared. 

“ Well,” he said, “ let Matt go. I wish him no ill.” 

Another glass of wine, and then : 

“ Do you think you could find Molly Dowd ?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ How is she now ?” 

“ About the same, sir, up and down. She has a hard 
enough time of it, the Lord knows.” 

“ Can she keep sober ?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ I’ll tell you, Jo, I have’ a fancy to* try and help that 
girl. I have a place that she can fill if she will ; and if 
she can keep sober, and wants to get away from her old 
haunts, I can give her the chance. I wish you would 
go and find her, and bring her here.” 

“ I’ll do it, sir.” 

And Jo went out by the back way, leaving his guest 
to entertain himself over a well-thumbed volume of 
“ Boxiana .” In half an hour he returned, bringing with 
him Molly Dowd, whom he left with Lyon, taking him- 
self off to the bar in front. 

Molly has not changed much since we saw her last. 
If anything, she looks better. There is not so much 
bloat in her face, and her clothes are not so poor and 
soiled. Still she looks worn and haggard, and the 
stamp of the outcast is very plain. 


The Shadows Thicken . 


l 3 l 


“ Lyon Hargrave,” she said, after Jo had gone, “ is it 
you ?” 

“ It is myself, Molly. . Sit down, I have something to 
say to you. Won’t you have a bit of wine ?” 

“ I don’t mind, sir.” 

Lyon poured out what there was in the bottle, filling 
a tumbler half full, and Molly drank it, and smacked 
her lips. 

“ I don’t drink stuff like that often,” she said. She 
knew what good wine was. 

Lyon rang the bell, and ordered another bottle, and 
when Jo had delivered it, and retired, he filled the two 
glasses, and they drank together. 

“ Molly,” said Lyon, as he set his glass down, “ you 
and I have known each other long enough to be open 
and above-board. I have something of importance to 
say to you, and I want your solemn promise that if you 
do not .serve me, you will not betray my confidence.” 

“ Won’t our confidence be mutual ?” asked Molly, 
nodding. The rich old wine had revived her, and she 
spoke freely. 

“ Yes, our confidence will be mutual if you enter my 
service, but I must expose the nature of that service to 
you before you can become a party to the corffract.” 

“ Bah ! Are you afraid to trust me, Lyon Hargrave ? 
If you are, let me go.” 

“ No, Molly, I am not afraid to trust you ; and to 
prove it I will open the business at once. And, mind 
you, if you serve me, I will pay you well for it. I will 
give you more money than you ever owned at one time 
before in your life.” 

“ That wouldn’t be much, Mr. Hargrave.” 

“ Never mind. You shall be satisfied. Will you have 
some more wine ?” 


i3 2 


The Spectre's Secret, 


“ No, sir. I’ve had enough for now. Let me hear 
your business.” 

Lyon looked at the doors, and then drawing his chair 
nearer to the woman, he said : 

“ You know, Molly, that I have come into a large 
inheritance left to me by my uncle. There was a 
woman in my uncle’s employ as housekeeper, whom I 
discharged. That woman is a tigress. She hates me, 
and would ruin me if she could. And, to a certain 
extent, she can ruin me. There are some things dearer 
to me than money, and of these she can rob me. I 
need not tell you how.” 

“ She knows how you have lived, perhaps ?” sug- 
gested Molly. 

“ Yes,” said Lyon, with a nod ; “ and she can blow on 
me if she chooses ; and I know that she means to blow. 
In short, Molly, I want that woman put out of my way ; 
and I will give you a thousand dollars if you will do it.” 

The woman caught her breath, and was silent for 
some moments. At length she said, nervously : 

“ That is something I never did.” 

“ And you never earned so much money before ?” 

“ No, sir.” 

“Well* there must be a first time for everything. 
This woman of whom I speak will be no loss to the 
world, while you and I will be gainers.” 

Molly twisted her fingers together, and reflected. 

“ A thousand dollars ?” she muttered. 

“ Yes, and I will give you a full new outfit of clothes 
in addition.” 

“ Where is the woman, at your place ?” 

“ No. She is sixty miles away, on the Delaware.” 

“ How am I to do it ?” 

“ I’ll tell you what I have thought of. You must 
take, the stage on the Jersey side, and let them set you 


The Shadows Thicken . 


133 


down in the town adjoining the town in which this 
woman lives. Then you can walk the rest of the way 
until you find the house. It is a farm-house, and if 
you reach there in the evening, and profess to be faint 
and sick, they will take you in. Your looks will enable 
you to pass readily for a sick woman. And you can 
stay there until you can find opportunity to slip a bit of 
powder into something that my enemy will eat or drink. 
I can get a powder the effect of which will be such that 
no mortal can suspect foul play. And, moreover, the 
woman has been very recently sick with fever, so that 
will make her sudden slipping off seem more natural. 
Molly, do you want the thousand dollars ?” 

“ Yes, I want the thousand dollars. But it is a dreadful 
price to pay.” 

“ That is as you take it. The work is easily done.” 

“ What is the woman’s name ?” 

“ Molly, if you don’t do the work, you — ” 

“ Bah ! If you doubt me, let us have done with it. 
I am not anxious enough for the job to play at 
pledges before I know anything. What am I to gain, 
in heaven’s name, by blowing on you ?” 

“ Don’t be put out, Molly. I am not afraid to trust 
you. The woman’s name is Edith Somerby. 7 She is 
not far from thirty years old, and lives in Rollington 
with her parents. I don’t know if her father is living, 
Her mother was living the last I heard of them, though 
just recovering from a fever.” 

“ A thousand dollars ?” 

“ Yes, and a full new outfit for fall and winter wear.” 

“ And you’ll pay all expenses besides ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ You’ll give me the clothes, and money for my 
expenses to begin with, to be mine whether I succeed 
or not ?” 


134 


The Spectre's Secret . 


“Yes, Molly, I’ll do that. But it is understood that 
you shall do your best ?” 

“ Of course.” 

“Then, of course you will succeed. You can find 
such garments as you want at some pawn-shop ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ What will they cost ?” 

“ Fifty dollars.” 

“ That’s a round sum, Molly, but you shall have it. 
I will make it a hundred for clothes and expenses, and 
when you report the work done, you shall have the 
thousand.” 

“ I am to take your word for that ?” 

" Do you doubt me ?” 

“ No. You trust me, and I shall trust you.” 

“ Will you wait here half an hour, Molly ?” 

“ For what ?” 

“ We may as well have our plans arranged to-night 
as at any time. I will go and get the powder of which 
I spoke.” 

“ I will wait.” 

Lyon put on his jockey cap, and went out, and in less 
than half an hour he was back again, and he brought 
with him a small box, in which were four neatly-folded 
papers, each containing a powder. He showed to Molly 
the papers, and explained to her that one of them was 
sufficient for the work, but he had got four, so as to 
guard against loss or accident. Molly took the box, and 
promised to keep it carefully. 

There were many details to be entered into, concern- 
ing the passage by stage-coach, the finding of the house, 
and caution and watchfulness after reaching that point. 
Then he gave to Molly one hundred dollars, in notes of 
convenient denominations, for immediate use, and asked 
her if she understood. 


The Shadoivs Thicken. 


135 


“ I understand it all,” she said. “ You couldn’t make 
me understand it better if you should talk all night. 
And now I will drink some wine.” 

“ And when the work is done you may write to me, 
without signature, that I am wanted at the ‘ Foul 
Anchor,’ ” said Lyon, as Molly lifted the bottle. 

“ I can’t write myself, sir ; but I’ll make you a sign.” 

And then Molly Dowd drank a full tumbler of the 
pure old wine. 



CHAPTER XII. 

A LETTER FROM OVER THE SEA. 

The morning- was cool and clear, and Molly Dowd 
started out in quest of the garments she needed for her 
journey.’ She was shrewd and bold, and able to make a 
good bargain ; and, moreover, outcast as she was, she 
knew the quality of the goods offered her. Before 
noon she had selected and paid for a thorough outfit, 
and not quite thirty of her dollars had been expended. 
She returned to her poor chamber in the eastern by- 
way, and spread the garments out upon the bed. Thus 
far she had been in a sort of daze. Do not misunder- 
stand this poor girl. She had not resolved that she 
would do murder. She had resolved upon nothing. 
She had taken Lyon Hargrave’s hundred dollars, feeling 
that he could well spare it, and that she had earned it by 
listening to his proposition. As for the fearful work he 
had set her to do, she had not thought much of it. 
She had not been able to think clearly. A thousand 
dollars was in her estimation a fortune. It seemed to 
her she could live upon it comfortably while her poor 
life lasted. She had not yet dared to say to herself that 
she would earn that money. But she would get away from 
the city, and think. She would go out to Rollington, 
and see what manner of woman Lyon Hargrave feared. 
She could think more clearly out in the country. And 
[136] 



A Letter From Over the Sea. 


137 


then she felt it would be a blessing to go away among 
the hills, and the trees, and the running brooks, where 
she had not been for long, long years. 

In very truth, Molly Dowd had not wholly weighed 
in her mind Lyon Hargrave’s proposition when he left 
her. “ The money and the clothes to be mine whether 
I succeed or not,” she repeated to herself. “ And I 
told him I would succeed if I could. Well, we will see. 
Perhaps it will be easy — who knows ? I never did such 
a thing. But there must be a first time for everything. 
A thousand dollars ! Ah, me ! it is a great sum.” 

Thus muttered Molly while she sat and looked at the 
new clothes. And then she stopped thinking for the 
time. The thoughts made her head swim. 

She could not go over to Jersey to take the stage- 
coach until the morrow, and as it was now past dinner- 
time, and she had money, she thought she would go 
around to the “ Foul Anchor ” and get some chowder and 
wine. And she went, being careful to hide away her 
new clothes before she left her chamber. 

“ Ah, Molly !” cried the Cerberus,, as she entered 
the place, “ you’re just in time, and you’re in luck. 
You’ve got a letter from over the sea.” 

“ A what, Jo ?” 

“ A letter from over the sea, directed to Molly Dowd, 
at the ‘ Foul Anchor.’ Look at it. Just look at the 
post-marks on it.” 

Molly took the letter, and gazed upon it in a state of 
sheer bewilderment. 

“ Who is it from ?’ ’ she asked. 

“ I can’t think of but one of your old chaps that’s 
gone to sea, and that is Sugg Witkill.” 

Molly came nigh casting the letter from her indig- 
nantly, but a thought of her own restrained her. She 
could think of another— of one whom she had regarded 


138 


The Spectre s Secret . 


as a friend — of one who had befriended her many times, 
and she held the letter close, but spoke no word of her 
thought. 

She had kept faith with Matt Bungo. To no human 
being had she breathed a word of that last interview 
with him in the little back parlor. 

“ Say, Molly, don’t you want me to read the letter for 
you ?” 

“No, Jo, I want you to give me some dinner. I 
want some chowder and some wine — just such wine as 
I drank last night.” 

“ Bless you, Molly, that wine’s worth two shillings the 
tumbler full.” 

“ Then let me have the full of a good tumbler to 
begin with.” 

“ Eh ? You’re in funds, my lady ?” 

“ I’ve got money enough to pay for what I order.” 

Molly put the letter carefully away in her bosom and 
sat down, and without further question Jo furnished 
the repast she had ordered. She ate and drank, and 
then paid the bill. Jo wanted to talk more about the 
letter, but she did not choose to humor him. 

“ If it’s from Sugg,” she said, “ I’ll let you know what 
he says.” 

“ If it isn’t from Sugg, who can it be from ?” 

“ It may be from some grand officer. Who knows ?” 

And Jo laughed heartily as Molly hurried away. 

On the corner of the by-way and South street Molly 
stopped and considered. She had told Lyon Hargrave 
that she could not write ; and she might have added 
that she could not read. She could spell out and pro- 
nounce a few of the big words upon posters and police 
notices, but she could do little more. As for writing, 
it was to her as might have been a page of Egyptian 
hieroglyphics, Upon carefully studying the superscrip- 


A Letter From Over the Sea. 


139 


tion of the letter she could distinguish her own name, 
and though she could not decipher the post-marks 
upon it, yet the missive had the odor of the ocean upon 
it, and bore the marks of long travel. 

After a time the girl started away as though she had 
an object in view. Up South to Pike, and thence into 
Cherry street, and ere long she reached a very respect- 
able-looking house, at the door of which she rang the 
bell. The summons was answered by a shock-headed, 
coarse-faced woman, who demanded rather roughly to 
know what was wanted. 

“ I want to see Kate Arnot,” said the applicant. 

The woman looked Molly over from head to foot, as 
though considering whether to admit her. 

“ Look’e, my good woman,’' said Molly, not in the 
most amiable manner, and with a look and a nod that 
were significant, “ I don’t think you’d care to have me 
make any disturbance here, because I think I could 
stand that sort of thing better than this house could. 
Let me see Kate at once.” 

The woman drew back, and allowed the visitor to 
enter the hall, when the outer door was closed, shutting 
with a spring-lock. She then showed Molly into a 
small, poorly-furnished waiting-room, where there was 
nothing which could be stolen, and afterwards went in 
search of Kate. 

In a little while Kate Arnot came, a girl not more 
than five-and-twenty, rather gaudily dressed, with face 
painted and powdered, and redolent of rose and jasmine. 
She did not shrink back when she saw her poorly-clad 
visitor, though there was a cloud upon her brow. 

“ Molly, is it you ?” 

“ Yes, Katie, it is me ; but don’t be fretted. I haven’t 
come for help of money or nursing. I’ve got enough, 
thank fortune.” 


140 


The Spectre s Secret. 


The cloud upon Kate’s brow disappeared instantly. 

“ I have come, Kate, to get you to read a letter for 
me. You know I can’t do it for myself.” 

“ Come to my room, Molly, and I’ll read it for you 
with pleasure.” 

And Kate led the way up to her chamber, where they 
closed the door and sat down. 

“ Before we break the seal,” said Molly, producing 
the letter, “ I would like to have you tell me that you 
will keep the contents as though it had been a letter to 
yourself. I don’t want any promise from you, Kate. If 
you tell me, that will be enough.” 

“ I give you my promise, nevertheless,” returned Kate, 
pleasantly. “ Now do you break the seal, and I will 
read it for you.” 

Molly accordingly loosened the letter from its seal, 
and then handed it to her companion, who examined the 
superscription before she opened it. 

“ Why, Molly, did you know that this was from 
India ?” 

“ Yes. Jo told me that ; and he wanted to read it for 
me, but I wouldn’t let him. Open it, Kate, and tell me 
first who it is from.” 

Kate opened the letter and looked at the signature. 

“ Bless me ! it’s from Matt Bungo !” she exclaimed, 
with surprise. 

11 1 thought so,” said Molly. 

“ And have you known where Matt has been all these 
long months ?” 

“ Yes, Kate ; but I was under a promise not to tell.” 

“ Old Matt !” said Kate, half to herself. “ He was 
rough and tough, but he was true and loyal. He never 
went back on a friend who deserved help. And yet, in 
the eyes of the world, I suppose he was a bad man — a 
very bad man.” 


A Letter From Over the Sea . 


Hi 


“ I don’t care for that,” rejoined Molly, with decided 
emphasis. “ He was always good to me.” 

“ So he was good to me.” 

“ And now, Kate, read it, please.” 

They drew their chairs together, and Kate Arnot, who 
was really a good reader, and possessed of a good edu- 
cation generally, spread open the letter, and read as 
follows. She read as she knew the writer would have 
written had he been able, making good grammar of the 
ungrammatical, and paying no heed to the bad spelling. 
We will give it as she read it : 

“ Calcutta , June 20 th, 1841. 

“ Molly, My True Old Friend : I am going to write 
to you, and let you know how I am getting on ; for I 
can’t help thinking that it will please you to know that 
I am doing well. Do you know, Molly, that I think of 
you a good deal ? Somehow, in the old years, you come 
in as one of the pleasant things. God knows both you 
and I were bad enough, but I think we were true to 
each other. And then, again, I can’t help thinking how 
much more unfortunate you are than I am. A man can 
easily lift himself up. The evil of the past don’t stick 
to him as it does to a woman. The world don’t call a 
man fallen after he has once more got upon his feet, but 
it won’t let a fallen woman get upon her feet anyway. 
But, Molly, it won’t always be so for those who really 
and truly want to get up. In the other world men and 
women will be judged by what’s in the heart. So, Molly, 
keep your heart right.” 

“ Bless me !” said Kate, resting the letter upon her 
knee, “ if Matt isn’t preaching.” 

“ But it’s true, what he says, isn’t it ?” queried Molly, 
with moistened eyes. 


142 


The Spectre s Secret. 


“ Yes, Molly, it is true, as true as gospel.” 

“ Read the rest of it.” 

And Kate read on : 

“ Perhaps you won’t believe me, Molly, but from the 
moment I last saw you in Jo Ragley’s parlor down to 
this time I have been different from what I ever was 
before. I had a strong motive then to do a good deed, 
and I’ve been trying to do good ever since ; and I tell 
you, Molly, it is much better to be good than it is to be 
bad. Oh, it is so grand to feel that you can look every- 
body right square in the face ! And, Molly, it is some- 
thing to be able to look up to Heaven and not be afraid 
of the light. The last evil thing I ever did, and one of 
the very worst, I did for Lyon Hargrave, the villain ! 
And he would have sold me, body and soul, the very 
next minute, had it been for his interest. And do you 
know, Molly, that I have more than once wondered, 
since Sugg and I are both gone, whether the villain 
would ever look after you to help him, for let me tell 
you there’s hot water for him yet at Ingleside. At any 
rate, do you keep clear of him. I shall have a story to 
tell you when I get home, something that I dare not 
write. You remember what I hinted to you about Sugg ? 
It was more than true. But Sugg has met his reward. 
And I’ll tell you about that, too, when I see you. 

“ And now, Molly, one word about myself, and the 
man I have learned to love as I never loved any other 
man, and that man is Horace Moore. When we got into 
Calcutta we found the ship Xerxes here, owned by our 
folks, and her captain and first mate sick with fever ; 
and both of them died. Captain Percy was put in com- 
mand of the Xerxes , and Horace Moore was placed in com- 
mand of the dear old Speedwell , and — I — Matt Bungo — am 
his third mate ! That is something, isn’t it ? And Captain 


A Letter From Over the Sea. 


143 


Moore is learning me navigation, so that I can work out 
all kinds of reckonings ; and when I can do that I’ll be 
fit for first mate. We shall start for home before long, 
and if we have good luck the rest of the way, it must be 
a prosperous voyage. 

“ And now, Molly, hold up till I get back ; and then, 
if you have a mind to stand up, I’ll help you. Keep 
this letter to yourself ; or, if you have to get any- 
body to read it for you, tell that person to keep it. I 
can fancy you will steer for Katie Arnot. I don’t fear 
to trust her. Above all, don’t let word get to Lyon 
Hargrave that I am with Horace Moore. If you see 
that man, Molly, keep your eye on him, but don’t let 
him get to windward of you. And keep an eye open 
for me, Molly, and look out for me when I get home, 
which won’t be many months. Matt Bungo.” 

For some moments after the letter was finished both 
the girls were silent. Tears were in Molly’s eyes, and 
Kate’s eyes were not dry. Kate was the first to speak : 

“ Dear old Matt ! I am glad he is doing so well. 
Goodness mercy ! Molly, suppose he should come home 
and marry you !” 

Molly Dowd caught her breath, and grew pale as 
death, and then, in a moment more, flushed to the tem- 
ples, and said : 

14 Don’t, don’t, Kate ! I tell you, it can never be! 
And he an officer of a great ship ! Ah, the time for 
such hope left me long, long ago.” 

“ Never mind, Molly ; but do as he says, and keep 
up the best heart you can.” 

“ I’ll do that.” 

“ And Lyon Hargrave — what in the world is it all 
about ? I used to know Lyon ; and I’ve heard that he 


144 


The Spectre s Secret . 


had come into a big property up on the Hudson. What 
is it about him and Sugg Witkill ?” 

Molly had been considering this matter — considering 
how much she could tell to Kate Arnot — and her 
thoughts had been clear and quick. 

“ Really and truly,” she answered, “ I don’t 
understand it. Matt says he will explain when he gets 
home. You’ve been good to me, Kate, and I ought to 
trust you. You’ll_ keep sacred what I tell you ?” 

“ As sacred as the grave, Molly.” 

“ Then I know only this : Horace Moore had some 
connection with Ingleside, and Lyon Hargrave feared 
him so much that he wanted to do him harm ; and 
when Moore had shipped as mate of the Speedwell , Har- 
grave got Sugg shipped to put him out of the way. 
Matt found this out, and from that moment he set him- 
self to thwart Lyon Hargrave, and save Horace Moore. 
That is all I know, save what is in the letter.” 

“ What a grand old fellow Matt is, to be sure !” cried 
Kate, feelingly. “ And have you seen the villain, 
Lyon Hargrave, since ?” 

“ I have seen him — that’s all. But Matt needn’t 
fear that the black-hearted man will ever pull wool 
over my eyes. You are real good, Kate, for reading my 
letter, and I hope I may be able to do you a good turn 
some time.” 

She took her letter as she spoke, and folded it, and 
put it into her bosom. 

“ I’m glad you came,” said Kate, also rising ; “ for I 
have enjoyed the letter almost as much as you have ; 
and be sure I’ll keep all safe in my own breast.” 

“ I know you will, Kate.” 

And the two women kissed each other, and 
separated. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

A BRAVE BATTLE. 

Molly Dowd went back to her little upper chamber, 
and sat down and thought. It was a new and strange 
work for her — this deep thinking ; but she was equal to 
the emergency, though sometimes thoughts conflicted, 
and jostled her brain till she was well nigh distracted. 
But, thanks to the better instincts of her heart, the right 
thoughts held their way uppermost in the end. She 
sat a long half hour without moving — sat with her head 
bowed upon her hand — sat until the day had gone, and 
the shadows were thick over the city. Then she started 
up, as from a dream, and was surprised to find it dark. 
She lighted a candle, and after standing awhile in its 
struggling light, she drew the letter from her bosom 
and pressed it to her lips. 

“ Dear old Matt !” she murmured, in firm, resolute 
tones, “ you shall not be alone in doing good. How 
wonderful it is ! The same hand that opened the 
way to you has opened it to me. Heaven bless the 
dear letter, and bless the writer !’* 

And she kissed the sea-stained missive again, and again 
put it away in her bosom. 

Then she drew her shawl over her head, and went 
forth to the “ Foul Anchor.” The drinkers of the night 

[i45] 


146 


The Spectre s Secret, 


had begun to assemble, and she went around through 
the dark archway, and rang the bell at the rear door. 

“ It’s me, Jo, — Molly.” 

Jo opened the door and admitted her to the little 
parlor. 

“ Bless me, Molly, you look like a woman of business.” 

Aye, even the Cerberus of that Gehenna, with his 
bleared eyes, could see the new look upon the woman’s 
face. 

“ What’s up ?” he asked, after she had taken a seat. 

“ Nothing that can concern you, Jo, if I may say so.” 

“ And who was the letter from, Molly ? Was it 
Sugg ?” 

“ No, it was not from Sugg.” 

“ Who, then ?” 

“ It was as I told you, Jo, honestly and truly. It was 
from the mate of a ship ; and it was for me alone. If 
you ask me any more questions I shall lie to you ; and I 
don’t want to lie if I can help it.” 

“ Well, you are a rum ’un ! But have your own way. 
I won’t bother you.” 

“ Thank you, Jo. And now I want some stewed 
oysters, and a bottle of that same wine.” 

“ Not a bottle ?” 

“ I said — a bottle.” 

“ But it’s worth ten shillings.” 

“ Then I’ll pay you ten shillings. Bring it to me.” 

With a prolonged whistle Jo left the apartment, and 
when he had cooked the oysters, he brought them in, 
with the wine ; and, as usual, he brought two glasses. 

“ D’ye expect company, Molly ?” 

“ No, unless you call yourself company.” 

“ That’s good.” 

“ You may drink with me, Jo.” 

“ Thank you.” And Jo filled the two glasses. 


A Brave Battle. 


H7 


Molly took hers, and said, in tones such as were not 
often heard from such lips : 

“ Here’s hoping that both you and I may know more 
good in the time to come, Jo, than we have ever known.” 

“ Good ! I like that,” said Jo. And he swallowed the 
wine with a relish. “ And now, old gal, ring if you want 
anything more. And I don’t mind drinking another 
toast before the bottle is empty.” 

And the Cerberus went away, leaving his guest to eat 
and drink in peace. 

Molly eat the oysters, and drank more of the wine, 
and when she had done, she pulled the frayed bell-cord, 
which summons Jo quickly answered, for he had helpers 
in the front shop. 

The girl asked for her bill. The amount was stated, 
and she paid it. 

“ Have you drunk all the wine, Molly. 

“ No. I am going to drink to your toast now, Jo, and 
I want enough left for me to drink another afterwards.” 

Jo held the bottle up to the hanging lamp, and 
measured the contents with his eye. Then he poured 
some into his own glass, and some into Molly’s, leaving 
a good fair glass behind. 

“ Now, Jo, for your toast.” 

“ Well, Molly, here’s luck.” 

“ That’s good, Jo. I’ll drink to it.” 

They both drank, and then Molly took up the bottle, 
and poured the remainder of the wine into her glass. 
She held it up to the light, and looked into its amber 
depths. The expression upon her face was strange, and 
Jo watched her curiously. By and by she went to the 
stove, and lifted the cover aside, and then, in a tiny, 
trickling stream, she poured the wine out upon the dead 
coals. Jo looked on in blank amazement, but there was 


148 


The Spectre's Secret . 


such calm method in the movement that he did not 
interfere. But when it had been done he cried : 

“ In mercy’s name, what did you do that for ?” 

Molly turned back to the table, and set her glass 
down, bottom upward. 

“ Jo/’ she said, with solemn seriousness, “ it is my last 
drop for a time. I don’t know what may come in the 
future. I may be driven down lower than ever ; but 
I’m going to try and stand. I think I shall have your 
good wishes.” 

“ That you will, Molly. But — ” 

“ That’ll do, Jo. I must go now. You won’t speak 
of this ; because if I fail and fall, I don’t want to be 
laughed at.” 

‘‘Mum’s the word. You may depend upon me.” 

“Good-night, Jo. I hope you may prosper in a good 
way. You’ve been always kind to me.” 

“ Molly ! what in the name of — ” 

“Hush! Good-night.” 

“ Good-night ; and may luck go with you, Molly. 

“ Well, I’m blamed !” muttered Jo, after she had gone, 
“ if here ain’t a go. What has possessed the girl ? Ah ! 
it’s Lyon Hargrave ! Mercy, I hope she isn’t going to 
trust that man ! If she does, Heaven help her !” 

Molly Dowd hurried back to her chamber, and to 
bed. She had done all her thinking, and had arranged 
all her plans. And she slept soundly. With the first 
break of the morning she was up, and having treated 
herself to a good bath, she donned her new garments, 
and fixed her hair neatly. She hardly recognized the 
reflection from her little mirror ; and a momentary 
flush crept up into her face as she told herself that 
she was not bad-looking, after all. 

And another, looking at her, might have told her 
that she was far from bad-looking. Aye, could the 


A Brave Battle . 


149 


stamp of suffering have been removed from her face, 
she might have been called handsome. 

A small traveling-bag contained all that she had to 
carry, and having packed this, and put on her bonnet 
and shawl, she was ready to set forth. She had no need 
to see her landlord. She had paid her rent in advance, 
and was under no obligations. She got her breakfast 
at a small eating-house, over on Washington street, and 
then made her way to the Jersey side, where she found 
the stage-coach she was to take, and secured her seat. 
Her first day’s ride brought her to Goshen, and tapon 
inquiring of the landlord at the inn where she was to 
stop, she found that she was still thirty miles from her 
destination. 

That evening Molly felt nervous and uncomfortable, 
and she slept but little through the night. In the 
morning a pot of strong coffee made her feel better, 
and later she took the stage for the post- village next 
adjoining Rollington, which she reached at noon. At 
the inn in this place she called for dinner, but eaf very 
little. She asked for coffee, and when that was served 
she drank it freely. 

After dinner she asked the host if he knew a family 
of the name of Somerby, in Rollington. 

He did. He knew two families of that name. One 
lived in the village, and kept a store, and the other 
lived on a farm. 

It was the farm that the wayfarer sought. 

The host told her it was about five miles distant, and 
gave her such directions that she could not miss it. 

Late in the afternoon Molly set forth on foot, and in 
the edge of the evening she reached the farmer’s house 
— a tidy, substantial dwelling, with thrifty looking 
outbuildings. She crept to the door, and plied the 
knocker. 


The Spectre's Secret . 


150 


There was no need that Molly Dowd should plead 
sickness to enlist sympathy. She had used the last of 
her strength in reaching the house, and as she stood 
upon the broad stone step her frame shook, and her 
face was pale and haggard. 

A young woman came to the door, a woman of thirty, 
or thereabouts, whose face was pleasant and kind, and 
whose brown eyes were full of w T arm and tender love- 
light. 

“ In mercy’s name, good woman, can you give me 
rest and shelter ?” asked the wayfarer, tottering. 

“ Of course we can,” was the hearty response. And 
the brown-eyed woman took the sufferer by the arm, 
and led her into the house, led her into a comfortable 
sitting-room, where sat an elderly lady who seemed to 
be just recovering from sickness, and a girl younger 
than she who had come to the door. 

“ It is no sickness that you need fear,” said the new- 
comer, as she observed a look of concern upon the face 
of the younger girl. “ I am only worn and faint and 
broken. If you will let me rest here I will pay you.” 

“ Hush, poor child ! God’s mercy is not strained 
beneath this roof. Rest, and be at peace.” 

The wayfarer looked up into the large, clear brown 
eyes of the speaker, and her own eyes filled until the 
tears ran down her hollow cheeks in a stream, and she 
bowed her head upon her hands, and sobbed aloud. 

“ Poor soul !” And she of the brown eyes bent over 
and kissed the sufferer upon the brow. 

The wayfarer started, and looked up through her 
tears. 

“ What is your name ?” she asked. 

“ Edith Somerby.” 

A film seemed to come over the eyes of the stranger, 
and she reeled like one dazed and dizzy. 


A Brave Battle . 


151 


“ Poor girl,” said Edith, supporting her, “ will you go 
and lie down ? You are very weak.” 

“ Yes, Miss Somerby. If you will give me some out- 
of-the-way corner, where I shall not be too much of an 
intruder.” 

“Come with me.” 

And Edith led the stranger to a small bed-room, 
where was a soft, comfortable bed, and bade her rest 
and feel at home. And then she added : 

“ You have asked my name. May I know yours ?” 

“ Yes. My name is Molly Dowd.” 

“ Mary, is it?” 

“ I was never called Mary, that I can remember. 
Call me Molly, if you please ; and let it be Molly that 
gets better under this roof, Heaven bless and protect 
it, and all that it covers !” 

And Molly’s eyes streamed again. And Edith spoke 
words of cheer and comfort. 

Would Molly have anything to eat ? 

No she could not eat; but she would like a cup of 
strong tea. 

And Edith went away, and made the tea, and brought 
it in ; and Molly drank two full cups of it, after which 
she lay down, and was left to rest. 

The family at the farmhouse consisted of the widowed 
mother and four children. Two grown-up boys, aged 
twenty-two and twenty-six, respectively, and two 
daughters, aged twenty and thirty-one. Of these Edith 
was the oldest, and was really at the head of the house- 
hold. A heavy mortgage which had rested upon the 
farm at her father’s death she had paid off entirely from 
her own earnings, and most of the business of the place 
was in her hands to manage. And she was not only 
equal to the task, but her brothers preferred that it 


152 


The Spectres Secret. 


should be so. They were a happy, loving, and con- 
tented family. 

When the family had assembled for the evening 
Edith told her brothers of the coming of the wayfarer, 
and it was cheerfully agreed that she should do as she 
pleased in the matter. 

In the little bedroom Molly Dowd tossed and turned 
in restless pain ; but by and by she heard a light step 
at the door, and in a moment she was quiet. Edith 
came in, and asked her how she was. 

“ I think I shall rest,” was Molly’s answer, in a whisper. 

“ Can I do anything for you ? Do not be afraid to 
ask.” 

“ If I could have a bowl of cold tea by my bedside.” 

Edith went out and prepared the tea, and brought it 
in, a large bowl full. And the wayfarer said she could 
do nothing more. 

O ! it was agony, not the agony of twinging pain, but 
the agony of entire unrest. Every nerve was in arms, 
and clamoring for the old fire of the bygone times. 
Molly knew too well what it meant, but she did not 
faint. She would conquer or die, that is, if she could 
have the help of kindness. It was a long and dreary 
and wretched night. 

Early in the morning Edith came in, cheerful and 
smiling ; but she stopped, fear-stricken, when she saw 
the hollow cheeks, the staring eyes, and the pain-marked 
face before her. Molly observed, and quickly sat up in 
bed, and stretched forth her hands. She had resolved 
to do a brave thing. 

“ Miss Somerby — Edith,” she said, “ be not alarmed. 
Sit down here by my side, not too near, and let me tell 
you the truth. You may spurn me from you when you 
have heard — you may cast me forth from your house — 
but you shall know,” 


A Brave Battle . 


153 


“Tell me,” said Edith, sitting down near enough to 
take one of the quivering, shaking hands. 

“ Dear angel,” responded the sufferer, “ for years I 
have almost lived upon that fire which consumes both 
body and soul. This is Saturday morning ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Since Wednesday night I have not drank a drop of 
spirit. On that night I turned my glass upside down, 
and said if I could find help I would drink no more. 
But, oh ! I did not know the pain that was to come. 
And yet I do not regret, I do not falter. If you ask me 
what led to this last step, I shall tell you when I am 
stronger — when I shall have something else to tell you. 
Can you still be kind to me ?” 

“ Dear soul ! yes.” 

“ If I should tell you I had been outcast, very, very 
low, what then ?” 

“ Tell me that you wish henceforth to be better and 
happier, and I will care for you as I would for my own 
dear sister.” 

“ Edith — blessed one !— it is my soul's most earnest 
desire. Help, oh, help, and you shall not regret it !” 

Edith put her arm around the neck of the petitioner, 
and drew her head upon her bosom. 

“ Poor child ! You shall be saved if my help can 
accomplish it. I understand all that is necessary, so let 
us say no more upon the subject of the past until you 
are stronger. Let us be cheerful, if we can. The best 
of us need help sometimes. And now, Mary — ” 

“ Molly, if you please.” 

“Well, Molly,” said Edith, with a smile, resuming 
her seat, “ the first thing for us to do is to send for the 
doctor. Our family physician is near at hand, and he 
is a good, kind man. He can help you.” 

“ If you think he can help me — ” 


154 


The Spectre s Secret. 


“ I am sure he can.” 

“ I must pay him.” 

“ As you please about that.” 

“ I shall tell him the whole truth — or, you may. I 
would rather you did it, Miss Somerby.” 

“ Edith, if you please.” 

“ Good, blessed Edith !” 

So Edith went out, and sent one of her brothers away 
for the doctor, and at the end of an hour the man of 
medicine was at hand. He was, fortunately, a man of 
practical common-sense, and when he had heard from 
Edith just what the case was, he knew how to handle it. 
He said to the patient, when he had sat by her side 
awhile, and tested her courage : 

“ I shall not force nature to succumb to drowsy 
drugs. I could give you easy sleep in an hour, but it 
would not benefit you. You would only awaken to the 
old pain. Will you, with my help, fight it out 
bravely ?” 

“ Yes, sir, I will fight it out.” 

“ Then your suffering shall not be long.” 

And she did fight it out ; and all were surprised at 
the speedy conquest, and at the rapid improvement 
after the enemy had been put under foot. In one week 
from the day of the doctor’s coming her nerves were 
strong and steady, and her appetite was good. She 
gained in flesh, and the incoming of pure blood began 
to give color to her filling cheeks. In two weeks she 
was better in health, and far better in looks, than she 
had been before for years. She looked into the 
mirror now, and a secret joy shone in her eyes as she 
found a face reflected which was not unhandsome — a 
face fair and flushed, with eyes clear and bright, and 
the curling hair glossy and attractive. Was she think- 


A Brave Battle . 


155 


in g of the mate of the noble ship, whose letter she 
carried even now in her bosom ? Who shall say ? 

And during all this time Edith had been her constant 
and untiring attendant, had been, in short, the sister 
as she had promised. 

One day, when she had become strong and well, 
Molly was unusually thoughtful, and during the after- 
noon Edith asked her what occupied her thoughts. 

Molly looked up with a start. At length she said : 

“ Edith, I have been beneath your roof almost three 
weeks. Have I gained your confidence ?” 

Edith went over and kissed the girl upon the cheek, 
and then answered : 

“ You have won our confidence and our love." 

" Bless you, Edith. This evening, when we can be 
alone, I will tell you of what I have been thinking 
to-day. It is of that something else which I hinted at 
when I told you the truth of my own sad life. Wait 
until evening, and you shall know.” 



CHAPTER XIV. 

A BREAK IN THE SHADOWS. 

Night had settled down upon valley and hill-side, 
and all in the farm-house, save Edith and Molly, w^re 
in bed. The two women sat in the little work-room, 
where a fire of well-seasoned hickory wood burned in 
an old-fashioned open fire-place. There had been a 
long silence. Edith was knitting composedly, while her 
companion had been for some time restless and uneasy. 
At length the latter spoke : 

“ Edith !” 

Edith laid aside her work and looked up with a pleas- 
ant nod of recognition. 

“ Do you know, Edith, that I am happier than I have 
ever been before in my life ? I received a letter once, 
from a friend far over the sea. He had been a bad 
man, but something had started him up, just as some- 
thing started me, and he had been trying to do good 
instead of doing evil ; and he wrote to me how grand it 
was to be able to stand up in the broad light and not 
be afraid. I shall show you the letter some time, Edith. 
That letter turned me. I was on the turning-point 
when it came, but I had not turned. That set me in 
the better way, and I said to an old associate, when I 
turned my glass bottom-side up, that X didn’t know 

1-59 



A Break in the Shadows. 


57 


what might come in the future, I might be driven down 
lower than I had ever been, but I was going to try to 
stand. And, Oh, how great and grand is the change. 
I think, I hope, I shall keep my feet.” 

“ Dear 'child,” said Edith, with moistening eyes, “ I 
feel sure you will stand. Do not doubt your own 
strength. If you look constantly to God, you cannot 
fail. Your trust and confidence in the Infinite Father 
of all mercies will strengthen you, and inspire you with 
trust and confidence in the better part of yourself.” 

“ I think I understand, and I shall not forget.” 

After this a long silence ensued, which was, as before, 
broken by Molly : 

“ Edith, I told you I had something to say to you. I 
have been waiting until I got strong, and until your 
mother got strong ; but, now that the time has come, I 
don’t know where to begin. It is a strange thing of 
which I must speak. But, dear Edith, I believe it will 
not make you unhappy.” 

“ Go on,” said Edith, with sudden interest. “ Let me 
know in your own best way. Commence where you 
will.” 

Molly bowed her head, and seemed to be summoning 
strength. Finally she looked up with the light of 
decision upon her face. 

“ Edith, have you any objections to telling me the 
story of Horace Moore and Lyon Hargrave ?” 

The brown eyes opened wide, and the mistress of the 
farm-house was evidently startled. 

“ Ask me no questions yet, Edith. I have a reason 
for my request. I know Lyon Hargrave.” 

After a pause, Edith commenced and told the story of 
Horace Moore ; and then she told of Lyon. She told of 
the death of Walter Hargrave, and of the incoming of 
his nephew to Ingleside, and of the outgoing of Horace. 


158 


The Spectre s Secret . 


She told of what she knew, only shadowing forth unwit- 
tingly what she suspected. But her listener was quick 
to catch the latter. 

“ And is there not a lady in the case ?” Molly asked. 

“Yes.” And Edith told the story of Lily Merton. 

“And I understand,” she added, “that in the firm 
belief that Horace is dead, and pressed thereto by her 
father, over whom Lyon Hargrave holds the suspended 
weight of a heavy debt, she has consented to become 
Hargrave’s wife. I should have gone to her ere this, 
but sickness has prevented. I shall go soon, now, how- 
ever, leaving you in my place, Molly, while I am gone.” 

“ Do you think Horace Moore is dead ?” Molly asked, 
dreamily, as though her thoughts were turned inward. 

“ I know not what to think now. At first I did not 
believe it. I did not believe the truth of the announce- 
ment in the newspapers, for I received a letter from 
Horace in which he spoke of the death of the officers of 
the ship Xerxes .” 

“ What was the date of that letter ?” 

“ The second day of June, last.” 

“ Is the day set for Lily Merton’s marriage with Lyon 
Hargrave ?” 

“ Christmas-time, not sooner.” 

Molly breathed more freely. When she spoke again 
her voice was low and tremulous, and at the beginning 
her frame quivered perceptibly. 

“ Edith,” she said, “ I will tell you now. Listen to 
me : Three weeks ago, or a little more — it was on 
Tuesday, I think, Lyon Hargrave came to me in New 
York. He thought I was wholly bad. He judged my 
heart by his own. He thought what he would do for 
money I would do. I must tell you here, Edith, that I 
cast the past of evil away. I cannot now remember 
how far I promised Lyon Hargrave to be secret. I was 


A Break in the Shadows. 


*59 


dazed and confounded, and my mind was not clear. 
But it has been clear since, and I believe that the thing 
which I now do is right and just before Heaven. I 
think I do but my sacred duty.” 

“ Lyon Hargrave came to me, and offered me a thous- 
and dollars if I would come to Rollington, and — and — ” 

“ Molly ! What ?” cried Edith, catching her arm. 

“ Do a foul murder ! He gave me the fatal, deadly 
poison, which I was to give to — Edith Somerby !” 

“ Oh, my soul !” 

“ But, dear Edith, as true as Heaven, you were never 
in danger from me, though at first I did not think to 
betray Lyon Hargrave. I took from him the money 
for my expenses, which was to be mine whether the 
work was done or not. I wanted to come out into the 
country ; and I had a curiosity to see you. If there was 
wrong in what I thought, good has come of it. Had I 
refused Lyon point-blank, he would have attacked you 
some other way. After he had left me, it was on the 
next day, I received a letter from a great way off — the 
letter I told you of ; and when I had heard that letter 
read I not only determined to save and serve you, but I 
determined, if I could, to begin a better life. Your let- 
ter, Edith, was written very early in June. This was 
written almost three weeks later. You may read it.” 

And Molly drew the letter from her bosom, and gave 
it to her friend. 

With deep emotion, with many startling ejaculations, 
and with now and then a question, Edith read the 
letter. 

“ Molly,” she cried, when she had finished it, “ Horace 
Moore lives !” 

“ Aye,” answered Molly, “ and must be well on his 
way home ere this.” 

Edith pressed her hand to her brow while she collected 


i6o 


The Spectres Secret . 


her thoughts. She had need to think clearly now. At 
length : 

“ Molly, what of this man called Sugg ? Who is he ?” 

“ Dear Edith, let me tell you so that you will under- 
stand. By putting this and that together I have got at the 
truth. I knew both Sugg and Matt ; and I knew Lyon 
Hargrave ; and when Lyon wanted to find Sugg Witkill, 
that is his name, he got me to hunt him up. He hired 
Sugg to ship on board the Speedwell , and I now know 
that he was hired to put Horace Moore out of the way. 
Through me Matt Bungo learned that Sugg had shipped, 
and that Lyon Hargrave had hired him. Matt sus- 
pected at once the mischief, and he, brave old Matt ! 
determined to save Horace Moore if he could, for Horace 
had been a friend to him. So he, too, shipped on board 
the Speedwell , and we can see, from his letter, that he 
has conquered. But we shall know all when he gets 
home.” 

Edith had not listened to this recital in silence, though 
she was silent for a time after it was concluded. 

“ Light begins to break in upon me,” she said, at 
length. “ I now know why I have received no answer 
from Lily. Lyon Hargrave has an emissary in the 
post-office at Oxington. With his position and his 
money he could easily do that. The office is small, and 
the postmaster is old. I sent my letter to Lily four 
weeks ago. Hargrave got it. And so, also, has he 
detained the letters which have come for Lily from over 
the sea. I must go to Oxington at once ! I will know 
all.” 

“ You must be very careful, Edith. You know not 
with what a villain you have to deal.” 

“ I know him, Molly, and I will for the present avoid 
him.” 

“ Dear Edith, if you do not shrink from such a thing, 


A Break in the Shadozvs . 


36 1 


I would say to you, disguise yourself before you come 
within the possibility of that man’s seeing you.” 

“ I will do it, Molly. I should do it for more reasons 
than one.” 

After this the letter from Matt Bungo - was re-read, 
and then followed many questions and answers, and 
much consultation ; and finally the course of action for 
the immediate future was marked out. It was past 
midnight when Edith Somerby drew the poor waif to 
her bosom, and said : 

“ Dear Molly, Heaven has sent you to do this good 
work ; and in the doing of it all the stain of the past 
may be washed away ! This home is yours while you 
please to stay, and you shall be to me a sister. God 
bless and keep you !” 

On the following morning Edith brought a soiled 
piece of paper, the unwritten part of an old letter, and 
got her younger brother to write upon it as follows : 

“ Rollington, October — 1841. 

“ Mr. Lyon Hargrave : E. S. has gone away to 
visit a sick friend. I shall stay here till she comes 
back.” 

There was no signature, and having folded this in a 
half-sheet of cleaner paper, and sealed it, the brother, 
in his rough hand, superscribed it, and took it to the 
post-office. 

After breakfast Edith put on one of her mother’s 
faded silk dresses, and also put on a lace cap, with her 
own hair combed back, and a partial periwig of gray 
hair in front, visible under the frill of the cap. A pair 
of green spectacles completed a metamorphosis so 
complete that even her brothers did not recognize her 
until she had spoken and smiled. In explanation to 


i 62 


The Spectre's Secret . 


the family she said that she must go to Ingleside to 
perform a sacred duty, and she did not wish to be rec- 
ognized by Lyon Hargrave. They had heard enough 
of affairs at Ingleside not to wonder at this, and they 
promised secrecy without asking many questions. 

Molly was the last of whom Edith took leave at the 
house. 

“ You will help my mother and sister while I am 
away, Molly?” 

“ You know I will, dear Edith.” 

“ Yes, I know. God keep and bless you. Good-bye !” 

They exchanged kisses, and then Edith entered the 
wagon, in which her brother was to drive her some 
distance on her journey. 


It was on Tuesday evening, the second day of 
November, that Adolphus brought a letter up to Ingle- 
side for the master. Lyon looked at the post-mark, 
and then nodded to the young man that he might 
retire. When alone he broke the seal and read. With 
an oath he threw the letter into the fire. And with 
another oath he muttered : 

“What is she up to? She must have lagged on 
the way. We’ll wait and see. I don’t think Molly 
Dowd has a soft spot in her heart that can turn her 
from that thousand dollars.” 

And on the afternoon of this same day, a woman in 
faded silk and mob-cap, with gray hair and green 
spectacles, called at the post-office, and asked of the 
young man in attendance, if there was a letter for 
Sarah Dwindleton. 

There was no such letter. 

Then the woman went to the rear part of the 
store, where Mr. Hardy was at his desk, and bought of 


A Break in the Shadows . 


163 


him a few small articles, chatting the while as though 
she knew him. 

“ I see you have a new clerk since I was last here,” 
she said, naturally. 

“ Yes’m.” 

“ His countenance has a familiar look to me. Where 
have I seen him ?” 

“ I couldn’t tell you, ma’am. He’s a young college 
student — a friend of Mr. Hargrave’s — that I took in to 
help him on with his studies.” 

“Ah, I see. The young ’squire, that is, Lyon Har- 
grave, got him the situation ?” 

“ Yes’m.” 

“ Mr. Hargrave is very considerate, I am sure. 
Good-day, sir.” 

“ Good-day, ma’am.” 

And Mr. Hardy returned to his desk, while the lady 
left the store, giving a keen, searching glance at the 
young postal-clerk as she passed him. 

Later, on this afternoon, Lily Merton was informed by 
Mary Carter that an old lady wished to see her in the 
sitting-room. 

Lily went down, and found the woman in the faded 
silk gown and mob-cap. 

“ This is Miss Merton ?” said the visitor, rising 
stiffly. 

“ It is, madam.” 

“ Miss Merton, when you know my business I am 
sure you will pardon my intrusion. I would like to 
speak with you in private.” 

“ We can be private here.” 

“ I should prefer to speak with you in }’our own 
chamber. Do not refuse me.” 

There was a persuasiveness in the woman’s manner 
which Lily could not resist ; and, moreover, there was 


164 


The Spectres Secret. 


a winning sound in the music of her voice. She hes- 
itated but for a moment, and then bade her visitor 
follow her. 

Arrived in the comfortable chamber, Lily closed the 
door ; but this did not satisfy the other, who turned the 
key in the lock. The young girl might have been 
alarmed had time been given her to realize the 
situation, but no sooner had the visitor locked the door 
than she turned and tore off the mob-cap and the false 
hair, and removed the green spectacles. 

“ Edith !” 

“ Hush ! Yes, Lily, it is Edith. Oh, my poor child !” 

And Lily was in her arms in a moment, strained to 
the breast of her true and faithful friend. 

“ Oh, Edith ! bless you for coming. My dear Edith ! 
Oh, how glad I am !” 

They sat down, side by side, and hand in hand, and 
by and by, after more words of love, Lily said : 

“ I have wondered, Edith, why you did not write to 
me ; why, at least, you did not answer my letter.” 

“ I received no letter from you, dear child.” 

“ I wrote, a month ago, and directed it to Rollington.” 

“ And I wrote to you, Lily — but we will come to that 
by and by. Tell me, now, the nature of your engage- 
ment to Lyon Hargrave. Be not afraid, darling,” 
added Edith, as the stricken girl paled and shuddered. 
“ I have come to help you if I can. Tell me all.” 

And then Lily told the whole story of the power 
which Lyon had gained over her father, and how it had 
been brought to bear upon her. 

“ When I could bear it no longer,” she went on, “ I 
told my father that when one year should have elapsed 
from the departure of Horace, if both he and Lyon 
then demanded it, I would become Lyon’s wife.” 


A Break in the Shadows. 165 


“ If both your father and Lyon should demand it at 
the end of the year ?” 

“ Yes." 

“And that year is not up until the last of Decem- 
ber ?" 

“ On the twenty-third." 

“ Take heart, Lily, and take hope." 

“ Edith !" 

“ Hush ! Nerve yourself for a battle, dear child. 
Tell me if you are strong ?" 

“ Oh, yes ! What is it ?" 

“ Mark me, Lily : What may have happened since 
the closing of the month of June we cannot tell ; but I 
can swear to you that the item in the newspapers, 
announcing the death of Horace Moore, was false." 

Lily Merton gazed up with staring look, and gasped 
for breath. She clutched Edith’s arm, quivering like 
an aspen. 

“ I have seen a letter, Lily, written more than six 
weeks after the date of the reported death by an officer 
of Horace’s ship. The captain and mate of the ship 
Xerxes had died, and Captain Percy had been put in 
command of that ship, while Horace had been promoted 
to the command of the Speedwell ." 

“ Oh, Edith !" 

“ Hush, darling. Lay your head here upon my 
bosom ! so. Now listen patiently. I did not get your 
letter, and you did not get mine, because Lyon Hargrave 
has his own base tool in the post-office. Hush ! And 
letters which have come from Horace, be sure, have 
been stolen away and delivered' at Ingleside. Oh, Lily, 
it is a base, wicked plot, from beginning to end. And 
the demon is even now plotting to destroy me ; and 
that is why I came to you in .such a masquerade. But, 
if you can be strong and brave, we will conquer. As I 


66 


The Spectre s Secret 


live, I believe that Horace will come back to us, safe 
and sound. If he does not arrive before the allotted year 
is up, we must contrive to put the marriage off. We 
can do it easily/' 

After a little time Lily grew calm and collected, and 
her native strength, her queenly strength and pride, 
came back to her. Her eyes shone as they had not 
shone before since her fateful promise to her father. 

And then Edith told to her the whole story, from 
beginning to end, as she knew it. She told of Molly 
Dowd, and of Matt Bungo’s letter, and of Sugg Witkill, 
and how, thus far, the demon of Ingleside had been 
thwarted, without yet knowing it, at every step. And 
she also told what she had discovered at the post-office. 

“ I knew it was my letter to you, Lily, that had 
alarmed Lyon Hargrave to seek my life. I knew he 
must have intercepted it. I showed my mind and my 
knowledge in it very plainly.” 

And then the twain laid their plans, and Lily was sure 
she could act her part without betraying herself. 

After this a season of sweet, refreshing converse, and 
the true friends separated. 


A few days alter this Lyon Hargrave was most agree- 
ably surprised. Lily met him, and greeted him in a 
friendly manner And this she continued to do when- 
ever he called. She did not treat him yet as a lover, 
but she ceased to be cold and distant, and sometimes 
she smiled in his presence. 

“ Score the game for me !” cried Lyon, to himself, as 
he walked forth one evening from Mr. Merton’s house. 
“ The proud beauty has given in at last !” 

And he went home, and drank some brandy, and then 
beat Adolphus three games at billiards, 



CHAPTER XV. 
matt’s final revelation. 

The ship Speedwell dropped a single anchor at Cape 
Town, and remained long enough to obtain a few 
needed supplies. After doubling the southern capes 
Captain Percy called his crew aft one pleasant day, and 
asked them, kindly, and with parental concern, if they 
had ever felt a regret at the loss of Grover and Witkill 
and their companions. The answer was quick and 
hearty. 

“ And now, my men,” said Percy, “ I want you to take 
this lesson to heart. Think how much better off you 
are to-day in every way, how much better, and how 
much happier, than you would have been had your 
hands been dipped in the blood of mutiny. Since that 
night you have pleased me, and from this time I give 
you back my entire confidence. Let the one false step 
be forgotten.” 

The men gave their captain and mates three hearty 
cheers, and then went to their stations ; and thenceforth 
the crew of the ship was a model of harmony and 
excellence. 

When the Speedwell cast her anchors in the river Hoogly 
it was found that only two ships had ever made the pas- 
sage from America so quickly. She had been blessed 

[167] 




1 68 


The Spectres Secret. 


with fair winds in the Indian Ocean, and she had been 
managed by competent masters. 

In Diamond Harbor, on his arrival, Percy found the 
ship Xerxes , just in from Canton — a ship belonging to 
the owners of the Speedwell , — and shortly afterward her 
captain and first mate died of fever. The agent and the 
underwriters conferred with Captain Percy, and asked 
him what should be done. The Xerxes was a heavy ship, 
and was to return home with a valuable cargo. Had he 
an officer competent to take charge of the Speedwell l 

“Yes, gentlemen,” he answered, promptly. “Mr. 
Moore is capable in every way.” 

“ And entirely trustworthy ?” 

“ Never a more true and trusty man walked a deck.” 

And so it came to pass that John Percy went to the 
command of the Xerxes , while Horace Moore was ele- 
vated to the command of the Speedwell . William Lander 
was his first mate, Tom Martin his second, and. Matt 
Bungo was installed as third mate. Matt was proud of 
the position, and not a man below him grumbled at his 
elevation. 

On the first of August, with an amply sufficient crew, 
and with a full and valuable cargo, the Speedwell set sail 
for home. The men had already learned to love their 
new commander, and their obedience was ready and 
cheerful. 

“ Matt,” said the captain, one day, to his third mate, 
who was unusually moody and thoughtful, “ what have 
you upon your mind ? There is something in which I 
have an interest.” 

“ Captain Moore, will you wait until we snuff the 
trades of the Atlantic ? Wait till then, and I’ll tell you.” 

“ All right, Matt.” 

At Cape Town the ship stopped again, and upon 
going on shore, Horace saw a boat at the landing which 


Matt's Final Revelation. 


169 


he quickly recognized as the boat which had once hung 
at the stern-davits of the Speedwell , and in which the 
mutineers had been set adrift. He and Matt were 
together, and they proceeded to investigate, and, at 
length, from an officer of quarantine, they learned the 
particulars. 

Some months before, a Dutch brig had picked up the 
boat at sea, with seven men in it, who said their own 
vessel had sprung a leak and gone down. These men 
had been taken on board the brig, and fed and clothed, 
and in return for the kindness shown them they had 
arisen in mutiny, and tried to capture the vessel. But 
the Dutchman had not been caught napping. The vil- 
lains had been overcome, four of them had been shot 
down at the time of the attack, and the other three had 
been hanged. 

And both Horace Moore and Matt Bungo returned to 
their ship with a feeling of great relief. Horace was rid 
forever of an enemy ; and, moreover, he was glad to 
know that the villains had met their death at other 
hands than his. As for the death of Philip Grover, he 
had but done his duty to his ship, to his comrades, and 
to the world. 

The Speedwell had crossed the Southern tropic, and 
entered the South-east trade-winds, and the crew had 
little to do but keep the ship on her course. 

One evening, while Lander had the deck, and while 
Martin was sound asleep in his berth, Matt Bungo came 
into the cabin, where the captain was reading, and sat 
down at the table. Horace looked up, and observed 
that his mate’s face wore an unusual expression. 

“ How now, Matt ? Have you come to give me the 
secret you have held so long ?" 

“ Yes, captain," replied Matt, breathing heavily. “ I 
have come to tell you all I have to tell ; and when it is 


1 70 


The Spectre s Secret . 


told you will acknowledge that to have known it 
before would only have made you restless and yearning 
to no purpose. And one thing more, captain, I want 
you to give me your promise that you won’t think less 
of me when I have told it.” 

“ My true friend, how can I think less of the man to 
whom I owe my life ?” 

“ I know, sir, but still I have done some very bad 
things in my day.” 

“ And are resolved to do no more of them ?” said 
Horace, cheerfully and feelingly. 

“ Never again, sir, while I have sense and reason !” 
answered Matt, grandly. 

“ Then go on and tell me your story, and I give you 
my promise that I will not blame you for anything. 
Let it be what it may, your service of the months last 
past shall wipe out all bitterness.” 

“Ah, sir, you don’t forget that you first saved my 
life. When I remember that, I sometimes feel 
unworthy to look you in the face.” 

“ Then never feel so again, Matt. Now go on. I am 
very anxious.” 

Matt drew his chair nearer, and rested an arm upon 
the table, and when he commenced speaking his voice 
was low and husky. 

“ In December last, sir, Sugg Witkill and I were stop- 
ping at a doggery on South street, in New York. One 
night, early in the month, Lyon Hargrave found us, 
and asked us if we would do a job for him. He would 
pay us well. We were to follow him up the river, and, 
at a proper time, commit a burglary, that was all. We 
were both dead broke at the time, and agreed to his 
proposition. He went back the next morning, leaving 
us money enough for expenses, and we followed the day 
after. You see, sir, we had known Lyon before. He 


Matt's Final Revelation . 


171 


has kept strange company in his life. We found him at 
an out-of-the-way place in Oxington, and he kept us 
hidden there two days. On the night of the third day 
he called us to him, and told us the time had come for 
our work. And this it was : 

“ His uncle, Walter Hargrave, had been sick and fail- 
ing, and that night had died. Had the old man died 
without leaving a will, Lyon would have been his sole 
heir ; but a will had been left in favor of another 
party — ” 

“ That party, Matt—” 

“ Was Horace Moore.” 

“ Go on.” 

“ Walter Hargrave was dead, and Lawyer Merton had 
gone up to Ingleside to attend to any business that 
might be required at his hands. Lyon had already 
made a friend of the lawyer, and with his, the lawyer’s, 
consent, he got a half-witted fellow appointed to watch 
with the corpse that night ; and before the watcher 
went to his post Lyon contrived to give him a glass of 
wine with a moderate dose of laudanum in it. It was 
almost eleven o’clock at night when we sat down at a 
table with Lyon, and he spread out an exact plan of the 
house at Ingleside, and a separate plan of the library ; 
and he pointed out to us where the old oaken cabinet 
was, and told us of the drawer in which lay the will. 
He had taken impressions of all the keys, and had made 
duplicates, which he gave us ; and we were to go and 
get that will, and bring it to him. We wondered why 
he did not do the work himself, and thus keep all in his 
own breast ; but he' explained to us that he must be 
able to prove that he had not been near Ingleside alone 
after the death of his uncle. In truth, I don’t believe 
he dared to go and steal the will with the dead body of 
the old man so near. 


172 


The Spectre's Secret. 


u Sugg and I studied the plans until we had them by 
heart, and then we took the false keys, and set out." 

“ It was on Wednesday night, December ninth ?” said 
Horace, breathlessly. 

“ I think so," answered Matt. “ At any rate, it was on 
the night of Walter Hargrave’s death. 

“ We went into the yard at Ingleside by the back 
way, and saw a light in one of the rear rooms, and also 
saw that somebody, a man and a woman we found it to 
be, was up. We waited until they had gone, and then 
we entered the house by help of our keys. We found 
the library, and we found the watcher fast asleep. We 
found the cabinet, which Mr. Merton had locked up all 
tight, but with the false keys we opened it without 
difficulty. We had a dark lantern with us, and there 
was a lamp burning in the next room — the room in 
which lay the dead body of the old man. It wasn’t 
pleasant for me, I assure you, and more than once I 
wished I was out of the job. It was the first time I had 
ever lent a hand to rob a dead man ; and every noise I 
heard, even to the snapping of the fire that smouldered 
in the open fireplace of the library, frightened me. 

“We opened the doors of the old cabinet, and unlocked 
the drawer which had been marked out for us. There 
were quite a number of papers in there, and among 
them we found the will. We opened it to make sure, 
we read the beginning, and read the names, and saw the 
seal, and then I held it while Sugg locked up the drawer 
and the doors. This had just been done when I heard 
a door open, and felt a draft of cold air strike me. Sugg 
and I turned at the same moment. Oh, sir ! the cold 
shivers run through me now as I think of it." 

And Matt Bungo quaked from head to foot as he 
spoke. Horace reached out and touched him upon the 


Matt's Final Revelation. 


173 


arm. He was strangely excited, and his breath came 
hard and quick. 

“ Go on, Matt.’’ 

“ Sugg and I turned together, sir, and we saw a sight 
that for the moment rooted us where we were. I 
dropped the will, and stood shivering. It was a spectre, 
sir, if ever there was such a thing, a female form, tall 
and erect, with a winding-sheet enveloping her from 
head to foot, with face like pale marble, and great, 
staring, fiery eyes. The air grew dreadfully cold as 
she came into the room ; and she came 011, slowly and 
solemnly, without appearing to notice us in the least. 
At length Sugg made a rush for the opposite door, by 
which we had entered, and I followed him, and we did 
not stop until we had got half-way down to the village. 

“ When we did stop, we took breath and considered. 
We believed we had seen a spectre. Had it been a 
mortal woman, she would have been startled upon 
seeing two such men as us in that place, for she looked 
straight at us with her terrible eyes, but she was not 
moved an atom. What should we tell Lyon Hargrave ? 
We finally agreed that we would tell him exactly how 
we had been frightened, and that the will had been 
thrown into the fire and burned up. 

“ It was almost two o’clock when we got back to the 
out-of-the-way house, and we found Lyon up and wait- 
ing for us. We told him our story, and he swore that 
we had been drunk, and frightened at our own shadows. 
We did not urge our story, only we told him we had 
thrown the will upon the fire, and we wanted him to 
pay us, and let us go. After fuming and fretting a long 
time he paid us half of the promised sum, and said he 
would pay us the rest when he should have had reason- 
able proof that the will had been destroyed. As for the 
spectre, he still believed that we had over-drank, and 


*74 


The Spectre s Secret . 


had been frightened by a creation of our fancy. We 
took the money he offered, and went back to New York ; 
and I did not expect to get any more. But in two weeks 
Lyon Hargrave came down and paid us up. He said 
the will had not been found. It was a mystery to me, 
for I had lied to Lyon Hargrave. I dropped that will 
directly in front of the cabinet, and not near the fire. 
You may smile at me, sir, and think me wild ; but I 
cannot help thinking that the spectre picked up the 
will. That is my story, sir.” 

Horace Moore, when the other had ceased speaking, 
started to his feet, and stood for a time gazing upon his 
mate like one in a dream. Finally, in a whisper, he 
said : 

“ Matt, tell me more of that spectre. What was it 

like r 

“ Like just what I have said, sir. I can’t tell you any 
more. If ever there was a ghost, that was one.” 

“ Did you see her face ?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Can you not forget all but the face, and tell me how 
that looked?” 

“ I suppose, sir, that ghosts can have fair faces and 
good looks if they had them while in the flesh ?” 

“ Certainly, I should say so.” 

“ Because, sir, the face of the spectre was like some 
of the grand marble faces we have seen in palaces. It 
was certainly a handsome face, but, oh, how pale and 
ghostly !” 

Horace took a turn across the cabin, and came back. 

“ Captain Moore, can you say now that you won’t lay 
this up against me ?” 

“ Bless you, Matt, you don't know how much I owe 
you ! Not yet is my confidence in you shaken.” 


Matt's Final Revelation . 


175 


“ And you don’t blame me that I have kept this thing 
a secret from you until now ?” 

“ No, Matt ; but, on the contrary, I thank you for it. 
Had I known it before I should only have had so much 
the more time for anxiety. As it is, I shall find my soul 
in arms until I can solve the mystery.” 

“ Do you think, sir — ” 

“ Do I think what ?” 

“That you can ever solve the mystery of that 
spectre ?” 

“ The mystery of the spectre, Matt, I think 1 can 
solve already ; but it is the Spectre’s Secret that must 
give me unrest. Oh ! for fair winds henceforth ! 
Hush ! I will tell you by and by, Matt. My heart and 
brain are in a tumult now.” 



CHAPTER XVI. 

A STORM IS BREWING FOR SOMEBODY. 

Horace Moore did not pray in vain for favorable 
winds. He carried sail boldly, being careful to hold his 
men so in hand that he could reduce the canvass at a 
moment’s warning. He experienced a little disagreea- 
ble weather on the American coast, but he was not 
driven from his course, nor was he forced to lie-to. 
On Monday, the 13th of December, he arrived in New 
York, and at the close of that day he reported to the 
senior owner, Mr. Dwinal. His trip had been a most 
successful one in every respect, and he had arrived at a 
time when the goods he had in cargo were most needed 
for the market. 

Later in the evening, after they had taken tea 
together, George Dwinal, the supercargo, and son of the 
owner, being present, Horace told the merchant the 
story of his adventures from beginning to end. He 
told of the mutiny, and of the fate of the mutineers ; 
and he told the story of Sugg Witkill and Matt Bungo ; 
and he told how Lyon Hargrave had been implicated. 
And then he told of the revelation of Bungo concerning 
the will. 

He was a long time in telling the whole, for the old 
man’s interruptions of ejaculations and questions were 
many and frequent. In the end our hero said ; 

[176] 




A Storm is Brewing, for Somebody. 177 


“ From this you will see, Mr. Dwinal, how necessary 
it is that I should hasten away upon my search. I can- 
not rest here. Mr. Lander and Bungo know all about 
the lading, and can attend to breaking out as well as I 
can.” 

“ All right,” returned Dwinal. “ Be off as soon as 
you please.” 

“ And should I want your assistance, sir, I may call 
upon you ?” 

“ Call upon me for anything, Captain Moore, and, if 
my power is equal to the emergency, you shall not call 
in vain.” 

“ Thank you, sir. And now, of Lyon Hargrave, can 
you tell me of him ?” 

“ Not much. I only know that he is at Ingleside.” 

“ And of Lily Merton ? I have received but one let- 
ter from her since I went away, and that was in answer 
to my first. I have written to her many times.” 

“ I think,” said the merchant, in a quiet, business- 
like way, “ that you had better slip up to Oxington and 
investigate. It is not impossible that Lyon Hargrave 
has managed to manipulate the mails.” 

“ I have thought of that, sir. But, do you know — • 
have you heard — anything of Lily Merton ?” 

“Only that she is Lily Merton still. You must find 
out the rest for yourself. I shall not give you 
rumors.” 

Horace’s face brightened. Ingleside and Walter 
Hargrave’s will were but as nothing to him compared 
with Lily. 

“ By the way,” said the merchant, breaking in upon 
a brief silence, “ were you aware that a notice of your 
death was published in our city papers not many 
months ago ?” 

“ My death ?” 


i ;8 


The Spectre s Secret . 


“ Aye, a notice of your death.” 

Horace looked aghast. 

“ I saw it and knew it was a mistake, for on the very 
day of the appearance of that notice, I received dis- 
patches from India, by the quickest possible overland 
and steam route, and you were alive and well, and on 
the eve of your promotion. I had the thing contra- 
dicted ; but corrections are not so eagerly caught up as 
are tales of wrong and accident. I think now that 
Lyon Hargrave was the author of that bit of news ; and 
Lily Merton may have seen that, and not have seen the 
correction.” 

Horace leaped from his seat. He must fly to Lily at 
once. He knew not what terrors might be overhang- 
ing. 

“You spoke of going first in another direction,” said 
Dwinal. 

“Yes, to Rollington ; but I must see Lily now.” 

“ Suppose, my dear boy, that you let me go to Oxing- 
ton. You had better have your plan of battle arranged 
before you appear there. I will go up to-morrow, and 
I can contrive to see Miss Merton without exciting 
suspicion.” 

Horace grasped the old man’s hand, and thanked him 
heartily. It should be so. 

And so, on the following morning, Mr. Dwinal, hav- 
ing left his business for the time with his partners, 
started for Oxington, where he arrived in season to take 
a late dinner at the public inn. He then found Mr. Mer- 
ton’s house, and rang at the door. 

Was Mr. Merton in ? 

No. He was at his office. 

J ust what the visitor had assured himself of before- 
hand. Then he asked if he could see Miss Merton, 
whereupon he was ushered into the parlor, and ere long 


A Storm is Brewing for Somebody. 179 


afterwards the young lady presented herself. Mr. 
Dwinal arose, and looked into her face. 

Trembling from head to foot, and with her beautiful 
face turning pale, Lily put out her hand. 

“ You are Mr. Dwinal !” she whispered. 

“ How do you know ?” cried the old man, in 
amazement. 

“ Horace Moore wrote to me from New York about 
you, how kind and good you were, and he described you 
so heartfully. Am I mistaken ?” 

“ Bless the boy ! and bless you ! no. I am Mr. 
Dwinal.” 

“ And Horace ?” She caught him by both his arms, 
and looked up into his face with breathless eagerness. 

“ Dear child,” replied the merchant,* drawing her to 
his side, “ you shall not remain in suspense. Horace is 
well and strong — stronger than he ever was — and is in 
New York. He came home captain of one of my best 
ships, and I have come to tell you.” 

“ O ! Thank God !” 

“ Horace would have come himself, but I advised him 
not. He possesses, he thinks, a clue to Walter Har- 
grave’s missing will, and to find that he must have the 
assistance of Edith Somerby. I thought he had better 
not be seen here until he was ready to make a decided 
move. Did I do wrong ?” 

“ Oh, no, sir, you did right. Dear, dear Horace ! Oh, 
thank God for all his mercies !” 

Mr. Dwinal could not stop long, but he stopped long 
enough to make up his mind that Lily Merton was the 
most lovely girl he had ever seen ; and long enough, too, 
to make Lily radiant and happy. He told her nothing 
of Horace’s adventures, nor of his dangers, leaving those 
for the lover to tell himself ; but he asked about the 


i8o 


The Spectre s Secret . 


post-office, and this brought out from Lily the story of 
Edith’s visit, and of her discovery in that direction. 

“ According to this,” said Mr. Dwinal, “ the sooner 
Horace sees Miss Somerby the better.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

When her visitor had gone Lily fled away to her own 
chamber to hide her great joy. She did not dare to 
trust her face to even Mary’s gaze until she had some- 
what quelled the flutterings of her overflowing heart. 

On the morning of the following day Mr. Dwinal was 
back in his office, where he found Horace anxiously 
awaiting his coming. 

“ I’ve seen an angel, my boy,” cried the old man, “ and 
she is as true as fine gold. She will wait for you, never 
fear.” 

The young captain’s face shone with celestial radi- 
ance, and the questions he asked were many ; and his 
happiness did not diminish at any of the merchant’s 
answers. At length he pulled out his watch. 

“ I wonder if I can get the stage-coach for to-day,” 
he said, anxiously. 

“ Pshaw !” returned Mr. Dwinal. “ Let the stage- 
coach go. Wouldffit you like Matt Bungo for com- 
pany ?” 

“ If you can spare him, yes.” 

“ Of course I can spare him. If your first mate and 
supercargo cannot attend to breaking out, we’ll dis- 
charge them. Do you take a span of my horses, and 
my light carriage, and be off.” 

Horace was trying to find words to express his grati- 
tude, but the merchant stopped him, and bade him go 
and find Matt, while he sent to have the team made 
ready. 

In two hours from that time Captain Moore and his 
mate had crossed the ferry into Jersey, and were rolling 


A Storm is Brewing for Somebody . 1 8 1 


comfortably and happily along behind two of the best 
horses which the New York of that time afforded. The 
man who now rode so proudly beside Horace Moore 
was not the Matt Bungo of one year ago. Far, far 
from it. His skin, though tanned, was healthful in 
color ; his eye was clear, bright and steady ; and his 
garb was that of a gentleman, though smacking of the 
sea. How often, from the very heart of his heart, he 
had said to himself : “ What a glorious thing it is to 
feel good !” 

Just after noon on the following day, Thursday, they 
drove up to the farm-house, and Matt jumped out to 
make sure they had not mistaken the place. He 
knocked at the door, and the summons was answered 
by a tidily-dressed and very pretty young woman — a 
woman who looked both pretty and good. 

" How ? No ! It isn’t possible !” exclaimed the 
sailor, shading his eyes with his hand, a habit he had 
contracted at sea. 

The woman was no less surprised than was he. 

“ Matt !” she cried. 

“ Molly ! Is it you ?” 

“ Yes, Matt, if you are Matt.” 

The sailor caught her hand and gazed eagerly into 
her face. 

“ Molly ! is it true, what I see ? Are you — ” 

“ What your dear letter made me, Matt.” 

“ Oh, bless God for that !” And Matt, forgetting time 
and place, drew her to him, and kissed her upon the 
cheel£. 

“ Bless me !” he ejaculated, regaining his senses, “ I 
am forgetting. Is Edith Somerby here ?” 

Before Molly could answer, Edith, who had been 
looking from the window, rushed past her and out to 


1&2 


The Spectre s Secret . 


the carriage. She had recognized the occupant, and 
called his name as she came up. 

Horace leaped to the ground and embraced his true 
friend. 

“ Dear Edith, I live again. Oh, this is joy !” 

“ A heavenly joy it is for me, dear brother. Let me 
look at you. Ah, Horace, there is another whose heaven 
wll come down to earth now.” 

“ I know, Edith. I have not yet seen her, but she has 
heard from me. She knows I am home, safe and well.” 

“ I am glad.” 

Edith called her younger brother to take care of the 
horses, and then she led Horace into the house, where 
mutual introductions took place ; and be sure there was 
surprise and interest for all. Matt Bungo was glad to 
know the Edith of whom he had heard his captain 
speak so much ; and Edith was very, very glad to know 
the true, devoted man who had saved Horace Moore, 
and who had written that letter to Molly Dowd. And 
Horace Moore, when he held the hand of the girl 
through whose direct agency nearly all the good had 
been wrought, thanked her with heartfelt speech and 
brimming eyes. And Molly herself, when she knew 
that she held the hand of Matt's true friend, and when 
she heard his words of blessing, actually cried. And 
Matt Bungo, standing back against the wall, was busy 
wiping his eyes with his gaudy Indian bandanna. 

After a time Horace said he would go out and look to 
the horses, and he made a sign for Matt to follow him. 

“ Matt,” he said, when they were alone, “ I have only 
one word of caution for you : We may tell everything 
here save the story of that night when you and Sugg 
went for the will. Of that not a breath to anybody.” 

“ Shan’t you tell Miss Edith ?” 


A Storm is Brewing for Somebody . 183 


“ Not at present. I have my reasons for keeping it a 
profound secret/’ o 

Suddenly Matt Bungo started, and caught his captain 
by the arm. His eyes were staring, and his breath was 
suspended. 

“ What is it, Matt ?” 

“ Horace Moore,” the mate whispered, “ I knew the 
face of Edith Somerby was like something I had seen 
before t” 

“ Matt !” 

“ Hers is the face of the spectre we saw at Ingleside /” 

“ I have been sure of it from the first, Matt. Edith 
was a sleep-walker — a somnambulist of most decided 
proclivities, as I well knew. And now, hold your tongue 
until we have unlocked the secret.” 

“ All right, captain. Not a lisp until you give the 
signal.” 

The four friends, thus strangely drawn together, had 
no secrets, save the one last mentioned, one from 
another. They sat down in the evening, and a season 
of story-telling followed which might have yielded 
interest to an anchorite. First Horace, for himself and 
Matt, told the story of their voyage, the discovery of 
Witkill, the mutiny, and the conquest. 

And then it came Molly Dowd’s turn. Of her instru- 
mentality in setting Matt upon the track of Sugg Witkill, 
all knew, so she commenced with the visit of Lyon Har- 
grave, and that gentleman’s plan for the removal of 
Edith Somerby. 

“ Edith knows all,” she said, after she had told of 
Hargrave’s errand. “ I was dazed and in the clouds 
until Matt’s letter came— dear old letter ! it seems as 
though Heaven sent it. Matt opened my eyes for the 
first time in my life to the idea of being good, and for 
the sake of doing good. And now that I have gained 


184 


The Spectre's Secret. 


the smell of the sweet, pure air, I would rather lay me 
down here in the quiet country and die than go back to 
the old dark life.” 

Somehow Matt’s arm had stolen around the speaker, 
and the closing sentence was spoken while her head 
rested upon his bosom. 

We need not tell what were Horace’s feelings, nor 
what he said, during the recital of Molly. In the end, 
after a long pause, he turned to Edith and said : 

“ Dear sister, we must close the career of that bad 
man. I know you will help me.” 

“ I will help you, Horace, to the full extent of my 
ability.” 

“You must go to Oxington at once, you and Molly. 
You can reach there in the evening, and find safety 
from observation, with some friend — ” 

“ With my aunt,” said Edith. “ She will help me.” 

“ And in the meantime,” pursued Horace, thought- 
fully, “ I must contrive some w’ay to get Lyon Hargrave 
to New York. He must be away from Ingleside when 
I arrive there.” 

After a brief consultation upon this point, Molly 
spoke : 

“ I think I can arrange that,” she said. “ Let Edith 
and me go by the way of New York city. I will there 
send to him a letter which will be sure to bring him 
down, and on the day that he comes down we can 
go up.” 

“ Aye,” added Matt, “ and if it should be necessary to 
keep Mr. Lyon Hargrave in New York beyond a day 
and a night, I can fix it. I will set some of our own 
men to lie in his wake at the * Foul Anchor,’ and they 
will hold him as long as we want.” 

At a late hour Edith suggested that they should 
retire and sleep upon the matter, and consult further, 


A Storm is Brewing for Somebody. 185 


with clear heads, in the morning, which suggestion was 
followed. 

On the next morning Horace had arranged his plans. 
After breakfast he and Matt took their carriage for 
New York, leaving Edith and Molly to follow in the 
stage-coach. 

And on Saturday evening they met at the office of 
the owners of the Speedwell, and were invited by Mr. 
Dwinal to go up and spend the Sabbath with him. To 
this Matt and Molly naturally objected, but the mer- 
chant would take no denial. 

“ Such a circle of true friends don’t often come 
together,” he said, “ and I won’t have you separated. 
If you would please me, come.” 

Molly looked inquiringly into Matt’s face. 

“ I’ll go, Molly, if you will.” 

And they went, and it was another lift for Molly 
Dowd into the better and happier life. 

With Edith, Horace did not confer while in the city. 
He had kept from her a most important revelation, and 
as his immediate movements had to do therewith he 
could not admit her to confidential consultation. So he 
consulted with Mr. Dwinal, who was entirely compe- 
tent to advise him. 

“You must take up my old lawyer with you,” the 
merchant said. “ He will not only conduct business 
for you, but you will find him equal to any emergency. 
I will introduce him to you on Monday morning.” 

And on this Saturday evening Matt Bungo, at 
Molly’s dictation, wrote a letter as follows : 

“ N. K, Sat., Dec. 18, 1841. 

“ Lyon Hargrave See me on Monday evening, at 
the ‘ Foul Anchor/ If I dared to tell you what is up you 
would not fail. Molly.” 


1 86 


The Spectre s Secret. 


And this letter was directed and deposited in the 
post. 

On Monday morning Mr. Dwinal introduced his law- 
yer as Hobart Van Wort, and from the knowledge 
which this gentleman seemed to possess of the matter 
in hand, it was evident that the merchant had consulted 
him on the subject. 

Van Wort was an elderly man, and accounted one of 
the best lawyers in the city. He was a keen-eyed, 
heavy-browed man, with features angular but prepos- 
sessing. Horace liked him, and it was quickly 
arranged that he should go with them as Dwinal had 
suggested. 

On that Monday afternoon our party arrived at 
Oxington, and very soon after landing, Mr. Van Wort 
learned that Lyon Hargrave had left, only two hours 
before, for New York. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

THE SPECTRE’S SECRET. 

It was hard for Horace Moore to keep away from 
Lily Merton, but he resolved to go straight about the 
business in hand. So persistently and so powerfully 
had his faith set in a given direction with regard to 
Walter Hargrave’s will that he could not turn from it. 
He knew that Lily was happy in the knowledge of his 
safety and nearness, and he was happy in a knowledge 
of her love and faith, and of a meeting not long to be 
delayed, let other matters come out as they would. 

Our party, upon learning of the absence of Lyon 
Hargrave, took a close coach, and were driven directly 
to Ingleside. An old servant answered their summons, 
who was at first confounded, and then filled with joy 
upon beholding Horace Moore alive and well. And he 
was glad to see Edith, also ; and he welcomed the 
others as Edith introduced them. 

And others of the servants, when they heard that 
Horace Moore had come, and Edith Somerby with him, 
made their way into the hall to feast their eyes upon 
the glad sight. 

It so happened, for a wonder, that Dick Bunker had 
accompanied his master to New York, so that, saving a 
new hand in the stables, only the old servants were in 
charge ; and by and by all the servants of the house- 

[187] 



The Spectre s Secret . 


1 88 


hold were assembled in the large drawing-room, where 
Mr. Van Wort addressed them. They had learned that 
he was a great lawyer of New York city, and they stood 
in awe of him. 

“ My friends,” he said, “ we shall stop in this house 
to-night, as we have business of the utmost importance 
to transact here. You will go quietly about your busi- 
ness, and leave us to ourselves. I will assume all 
responsibility ; and I give you my word that you shall 
be shielded from any possible harm.” 

Of course there was great wonder in the servants’ 
hall, but they could make nothing of it ; only the old 
cook shook her head, and said she believed the right 
would be done after all. 

Later Mr. Van Wort went out, and when he returned 
he announced that he had invited two visitors, who 
would be up in the course of the evening. 

In answer to a call of the cook, Edith went down and 
gave directions for supper ; and when the table had 
been prepared in the eating-room, and the tea drawn, 
the party sat down, Horace taking a seat by Edith’s 
side. 

It was a great occasion for Molly Dowd, but she 
acquitted herself in a manner that called a flush of 
pride to Matt Bungo’s face. 

“ You will have a piece of this pie, Edith,” said Horace, 
offering to help her. 

Edith shook her head. 

“You know my old trouble,” she said. “Only by 
being careful of my stomach at night do I hold myself 
in safety.” 

“ But you will have Molly for a guardian to-night. 
This is a rare occurrence, Edith. Celebrate it with 
me.” 

And Edith not only suffered herself to be induced to 


The Spectre's Secret . 


189 


eat the pie, but she eat some pudding with whipped 
cream, and drank a glass of wine. 

Shortly after tea, while Edith and Molly were in their 
chamber, the visitors whom Mr. Van Wort had invited 
arrived, and they proved to be Mr. Gerald Tobin, the 
sheriff, and Asher Merton, Esquire. 

Mr. Merton’s consternation and surprise upon behold- 
ing Horace Moore can be readily imagined ; but our 
hero did not suffer him to remain long in suspense. 
Advancing with outstretched hand, and with a pleasant 
smile, the young captain said : 

“ Mr. Merton, I think there has been a mistake made, 
and if so, I know you will help me to rectify it.” 

“ Certainly, certainly,” cried the attorney, not at all 
conscious of what it all meant, but he was to be con- 
scious in time. 

By and by they were seated in the library, and 
Horace, having looked to the doors, opened the busi- 
ness. 

“ Gentlemen,” he said, “ my trusty officer and my 
true friend, Matt Bungo, has a story which I wish him 
to relate to you ; but before he speaks, I ask of each and 
all that you will pledge your solemn word that no 
speech of his on this night shall ever be used by you to 
his disadvantage or ill.” 

The pledge was readily given, and thereupon Matt 
told to the assembled company the story of the attempt 
to steal Walter Hargrave’s will from that ver3>' room, 
just as he had told it to Horace — told of the false keys, 
of the coming of the spectre, and all. 

The stout old sheriff was deeply interested, but he 
was by no means astounded. He had known more of 
Lyon Hargrave than he had ever dared or cared to tell. 

But Asher Merton was astounded and confounded. 
He felt sick at heart, and the very floor seemed to be 


190 


The Spectre's Secret . 


slipping away from beneath him. He was very, very 
uncomfortable. 

“ Gentlemen,” said Horace, when Matt had told his 
story, and a few questions by the sheriff and Mr. Van 
Wort had been asked and answered, “ what seemed at 
the time so marvelous to Matt is no marvel to me. 
Edith Somerby has been, from her youth, a somnambu- 
list, though of late years, the sleep-walking habit has 
been, in a measure, put off by a careful attention to her 
diet. It must have been Edith walking in her sleep, 
and powerfully impressed by certain events which 
transpired shortly before she retired on that night, who 
entered this room and frightened the intruders ; and if 
she took the will from the floor, where it had been 
dropped, she probably hid it away. You are all aware, 
of course, of the fact that the somnambulist has no 
shadow of recollection, in the waking state, of what 
has been done while sleep-walking.” 

This matter was discussed until all understood it, and 
then Horace proceeded : 

“ I have planned for to-night to discover the spectre’s 
secret, if possible. I have studied sufficiently into the 
philosophy of somnambulism to know that though the 
sleep-walker knows nothing when in the waking state 
of what may have transpired in the other state ; yet, 
what is done while sleep-walking, may be taken up at 
any future period while under the same influence. 
Threads broken in waking will be instantly gathered 
up and reunited when the somnambulistic spell is on. 
Now, I propose, if possible, to set Edith upon the sleep- 
walk to-night. She has, at my persistent request, par- 
taken of food which I know must break her rest, and if 
I can now turn her waking mind in the right direction, 
and if she really did pick up that will, we may hope 


The Spectre s Secret . 


191 


that she will lead us to it. Will you carefully second 
my efforts ?" 

All agreed to this. 

Then Horace finding the upper doors of the old cabi- 
net unlocked, opened them, and took out a few old 
papers, which he proceeded to fold neatly in a white 
envelope, securing the same by two large seals of red 
wax. After this he explained to his companions his 
plan, and when they understood, he sent for Edith. 

Edith Somerby entered the library with evident 
anxiety, but was not disconcerted. She recognized Mr. 
Tobin, whom she had often entertained at Ingleside 
under her old master, and she greeted him warmly. 
She also recognized Asher Merton, and quickly detect- 
ing pain and consternation in his face, she forgave him 
in her heart, and gave him her hand as of old. 

And then, with a smile, Horace led her to a seat near 
the table. 

“ Edith," he said, as he took a seat by her side, “it is 
late, and we will not detain you long." He spoke easily, 
and in a natural way, though seriously and earnestly. 

“ Mr. Tobin and Mr. Merton have made a discovery 
to-night. They have learned something the importance 
of which cannot be yet estimated. We have found 
papers, Edith — papers once belonging to Walter Har- 
grave — which must be secured, and hidden beyond the 
reach of Lyon. I cannot explain to you now the nature 
of those papers, nor the thing which has come of Mr. 
Tobin’s knowledge, but I may do it to-morrow. For 
the present we wish the papers putin a safe place, where 
mortal eye shall not see them until other matters are 
settled; and, may be, for the interest of all concerned, that 
will have them finally destroyed. I have no right to hold 
these papers, Edith, nor would it be advisable. And so 
it is with Mr. Tobin. Should he or I be asked concern- 


192 


The Spectre s Secret. 


ing them, we must be able to answer that we do not 
know. In this strait, my sister, we have ven- 
tured to call upon you. You know every corner and 
cranny of the great house, and can conceal them from 
the possibility of observation.” And thus speaking, 
Horace held toward her the packet which he had sealed 

tip. 

Edith drew back in surprise. 

“ Why not destroy them now ?” she asked. 

“ Mr. Van Wort says it will not answer.” 

“ My dear lady,” interposed the old lawyer, “ Cap- 
tain Moore has told you correctly. It will be greatly 
to the advantage of those whom you love if you will 
take those papers and conceal them. As you may sus- 
pect, this is but a quibble of law, but a successful quib- 
ble is a point gained. The chief points are two : 
Neither Captain Moore nor his legal adviser must know 
the whereabouts of those papers ; and yet they must be 
concealed. No one will think of questioning you.” 

“ But if they should question me ?” 

“If you are driven into a corner,” said Van Wort, 
with a smile, “ you may admit that you have received a 
sealed packet from me, which you will surrender upon 
my requisition.” 

Said Horace : 

“ You can put them under your pillow, or in your 
traveling bag for to-night, Edith, and in the morning 
you can consider ; only don’t let me know what you do 
with them.” 

Edith took the packet mechanically, and after gazing 
upon it awhile, she said : 

“I will keep it to-night. I can promise no more 
now.” 

“That will do, Edith. Your wits will be fresh in the 
morning.” 


The Spectre s Secret . 


x 93 


Edith Somerby put the sealed packet into her bosom, 
and shortly afterwards withdrew. 

While this consultation had been going on in the 
library, Matt Bungo had been with Molly Dowd, 
instructing her in the part she was to play. 

It was very near midnight when Matt came to the 
library and informed Horace that he had received a 
signal from Molly that Edith had retired. 

Shortly afterward the gentlemen, Horace, Mr. Van 
Wort, Mr. Merton, Mr. Tobin and Matt, removed their 
boots, and posted themselves in a dark corner of the 
upper hall whence they could look upon the door of 
Edith’s chamber — the chamber she had occupied in 
other times. 

A full hour passed, and there were signs and whispers 
of uneasiness and doubt, and even Horace found his 
heart throbbing painfully. 

Another hour, and the watchers had become tired 
and more doubtful. Still . Horace Moore did not give 
up. 

“ Wait,” he whispered. “ We have taken too much 
trouble — ” 

The words wbre upon his lips when the door of the 
distant chamber was opened, and Edith appeared, with 
a white blanket thrown over her night-dress, a lighted 
candle in one hand, and the sealed packet in the other. 
Her eyes were open and staring, and she moved with 
spectral solemnity. 

“ It’s clear to me now,” whispered Matt, into his com- 
mander’s ear. “ That is the spectre Sugg and I saw. 
My soul ! do you wonder we were frightened ?” 

“ No, Matt. Sh ! Make no sound as you follow.” 

Edith, with slow and steady tread, went to the foot 
of the stairs leading up into the garret, and ascended 
them, her watchers keeping her carefully in sight. At 


i 9 4 


The Spectre s Secret. 


one end of the garret was a large closet, or clothes- 
press, lined throughout, walls, floor and ceiling, with a 
sheathing of red cedar, as a protection of clothing from 
moths. Into this closet Edith made her way, and hav- 
ing set her candle down, she mounted a large cedar 
chest, and pulled away a loose end of one of the upper 
sheathing boards, and into the aperture thus afforded 
she dropped the packet. As she let go the sheathing 
it returned to its place, looking not differently in the 
least from its mates. As she got down from the chest 
the watchers retired into another dark corner, and when 
she had passed them, and re-entered her chamber, they 
adjourned to the library, where Mr. Van Wort sug- 
gested wine. 

There was plenty of liquor upon the sideboard, and 
those who wished partook. 

By and by Matt reported another signal from Molly. 
Edith was once more in bed, and sleeping soundly. 

Upon this Horace, unable to appear wholly calm, 
took a lamp and went below. He knew the premises, 
and moved surely. Out in the work-room he found a 
hammer and a small iron crow, and with these he 
returned, and then led the way to the garret, and to the 
cedar-closet. He mounted the chest, and his first move- 
ment showed that his nerves were shaken. 

‘‘Let me take the crow,” said Mr. Tobin. “It is 
more proper that I should do this work. If necessary, 
I will get my warrant afterwards.” 

The sheriff mounted the chest, and went at the work 
in earnest. Strip after strip of the sheathing was torn 
away until they came to the floor, and there they found 
the packet which had been that night sealed up, and 
beneath it lay a large folded document, and a package 
of old letters. 


The Spectre's Secret. 


195 


The papers were handed to Mr. Van Wort, and the 
party then returned to the library. 

The old lawyer, with cool pertinacity, first overhauled 
the letters. They were ten in number, and all directed 
to Edith Somerby, at Rollington. They were worn, 
and had either been wet by rain or tears. They were 
not opened, but tied up again with the faded bit of 
black ribbon, as they had been found. 

And, then, Mr. Van Wort opened the pretentious- 
looking document, upon the margin of which was a 
glaring red seal. 

“ Mr. Merton/' he said, passing the paper over to his 
brother attorney, “ do you recognize that instrument ?” 

Asher Merton took the paper, and looked at it, and 
his frame shook as though with palsy. 

“ God forgive me !” he at length ejaculated. “ I have 
been blind, and I have been must cruelly duped by a 
villain ; but I have not meant to do wrong — indeed I 
have not ! This is the Last Will and Testament of 
Walter Hargrave, written by me from his own lips, and 
signed, sealed and witnessed in my presence !” 

“ Will you read it, Mr. Merton ?” 

Asher Merton read the will distinctly, though his 
voice trembled all the while. 

And by that will Horace Moore was certified as 
Walter Hargrave’s adopted son, well beloved and 
fondly cherished ; and he was made sole heir of Ingle- 
side, and of all property of which the testator might 
die possessed. Touching legacies to old friends and 
servants, Horace Moore was, by the will, instructed 
how to pay them, the work being left entirely in his 
hands. And in a paragraph by itself, the testator 
stated why he could not conscientiously entrust more 
money to his recreant nephew, Lyon Hargrave. 

“ I think,” said Van Wort, after the will had been 


ig6 


The Spectre s Secret. 


read, “ that as Captain Moore's legal adviser, I will take 
charge of the document.” 

“ I should prefer that you would,” replied Merton. 

“ You will render us your assistance ?” 

“ Of course, sir.” 

“ And you, Mr. Tobin ?” 

“ With the greatest pleasure in the world, sir.” 

At this point Asher Merton started to his feet, and 
caught the young captain by the hand. 

“ Horace,” he cried, with eager, painful pleading in 
look and tone, “ can you ever forgive me ?” 

“ Let us forget all but our old love and confidence^ 
and the revelations of this night,” returned Horace, 
ardently ; “ and so we shall have nothing to forgive.” 

“ Can you do that ?” 

“ I will do it.” 

“ Heaven bless you !* 

“ And now,” said Mr. Van Wort, “ I think we had 
better seek our rest. Merton and Tobin and myself 
have work for the morrow.” 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

CONCLUSION. 

On the following morning Edith met Horace Moore 
in a state of dire alarm. 

“ Horace — O ! the papers have been stolen from me !” 

“ Stolen ?” 

“ Yes. I put them under my pillow when I went to 
bed, and this morning they were gone.” 

“ Well, Edith, if you have lost papers, I have found 
some. Did you ever see these before ?” 

And he handed to her the package of old letters. 

She took them with a startled look, and presently 
caught her breath. Then, with a great sob, she pressed 
them to her lips. A little time, like one in a dream, and 
she looked up into Horace’s face with a bewildered 
expression, but soon a ray of light broke in. 

“ Horace, these are letters from one who is long, long 
dead, and with whom my poor heart was buried. I lost 
them three years ago.” 

“ Did you ever imagine how you lost them ?” 

“ At one time 1 had a superstition about their loss. 
I had cried over them so much, that I one night, in my 
weakness, wished they were burned, or that I had 
destroyed them when first received, and on the very 
next morning they were gone, and I have not seen them 
since till now.” 


[i97] 


198 


The Spectre s Secret . 


*' 1 can tell you all about the thief, Edith.” 

“ You ?” 

“ Yes. The same thief stole the sealed packet that 
stole these letters.” 

“ Horace !” 

“ Come with me, Edith, and I will tell you a story.” 

And he led her into a small drawing-room, where 
Matt and Molly were sitting, and there told to her the 
whole strange story, as we already know it — told of the 
felonious incursion of Sugg Witkill and Matt, of the 
appearance of the spectre, of the dropping of the will, 
of his own subsequent suspicions, and of his final test, 
and how it had worked. 

“ Now you know, Edith, why I urged the pie and the 
pudding and the wine upon you last night, and why we 
gave you the sealed packet as we did. The will is 
found, and you, my sister, are most affectionately and 
richly remembered therein.” 

It was a long time before Edith could fully realize 
the astounding truth — astounding to her, hearing it 
thus, in its full consummation, for the first time. But 
she realized it at length, and her face was radiant with 
a great joy. She thanked God that the Right was to 
conquer. 

“ And now,” said Horace, “ we must leave Ingleside 
for the present. Mr. Van Wort and the sheriff will 
look to our interests here. A carriage will be at the 
door shortly to convey you and Molly to Mr. Merton’s, 
who has expressed the wish that you should stop there. 
Matt and I will walk. We shall find a home at the 
hotel for a few days.” 

“ But you are coming to Mr. Merton’s ?” 

“Look out, Edith, that I am not there before you.” 

But the carriage was on time, and Edith and Molly 
were first at the attorney’s. 


Conclusidn . 


199 


Horace and Matt engaged rooms at the comfortable 
inn of Oxington, and while the latter took a conven- 
ient position for watching incoming passengers from 
New York, the former went to the office of Asher 
Merton, where he found Mr. Van Wort and the sheriff 
in consultation with him. As the young captain 
entered, Mr. Merton arose to greet him, and remained 
standing after he had done so. 

Van Wort had simply to remark to his client that all 
was going on well. 

Then Mr. Merton led our hero to the door. 

“ Horace,” he said, with feelings that were real, “ you 
remember what you told me last night, that we would 
forget all of the past except our old love and confidence. 
Can you, my boy, from your heart, say the same this 
morning ?” 

Horace took the old man’s hand, and looked up into 
his face with a warm, frank smile : 

“ Mr. Merton, I hope we may find so much of joy in 
the future that there shall be no room for unpleasant 
memories, even were such to be found. But shall they 
be found ? When the sun has arisen, and dispelled the 
mists, what finally becomes of the clouds ?” 

“ Bless you, Horace ! Now go to my house. Lily is 
waiting for you.” 

Aye, Lily was waiting. She had welcomed Edith and 
Molly, but she could not entertain them. Her heart, 
and all her expectation, led every thought elsewhere. 
Finally there was a ring at the door-bell, and Edith and 
Molly slipped away. 

Ah ! no more waiting, no more painful heart-yearning, 
no more of darkness or doubt, but clasped to the bosom 
of her own dear lover, Lily Merton wept in her ecstatic 
joy, and blessed God. 


200 


The Spectre s Secret. 


“ Lily ! Lily ! Oh, this is happiness ! Darling, there 
shall be no more clouds that are not brightly gilded.” 

“ Oh, my own dear love !” murmured the maiden, 
clinging to him fondly, “ if the clouds were thick and 
black I should not see them while you were with me to 
bless and sustain me. Oh, Horace !” 

After they had sat down, Horace remarked : 

“ It is a year, Lily, since I left you.” 

“ It will be a year on the day after to-morrow, love.” 

“ You remember, then ?” 

“ Oh ! could I ever forget ?” 

Like children who had found a great joy before 
unknown were these two as they sat hand in hand, and 
talked of things past, and things to come. 


In New York, Lyon Hargrave was frightened. He 
had found no Molly Dowd at the “ Foul Anchor,” and 
he had learned from Jo that the girl had not been seen 
in any of her old haunts for months. 

And he learned another thing. The ship Speed- 
well had arrived^- in command of Horace Moore. 
This latter thing he did not learn until Tuesday morn- 
ing. And then he set himself to investigating. He 
repaired to his club-room, and sent out trusty emissaries, 
and late on that Tuesday he received information that 
Captain Moore, with one of his officers, had gone to 
Rollington. 

It was past noon on Wednesday when Lyon Hargrave 
next landed at Oxington. He went first to the post- 
office, but did not find Adolphus in. Mr. Hardy told 
him the young man went away on Monday evening, 
and had not been seen since ; and the old gentleman 
was very uneasy. And so was Lyon Hargrave very 
uneasy. 


Conclusion. 


201 


Now, the truth was, that on Monday evening 
Adolphus had gone up to Ingleside, and having there 
learned from Nelly, of the cook’s department, that 
Horace Moore and Edith Somerby, with three other 
persons from New York, were in the house, he had 
deemed it for his best interest to make himself scarce 
in that locality, which selfish thought he had put into 
execution off-hand. 

From the post-office, Lyon went directly to the office 
of Asher Merton. He was desperate, and determined 
to sweep clean as he went. 

But he did not arrive at the attorney’s office 
unheralded. Matt Bungo, with his hat pulled over his 
eyes, and the collar of his overcoat turned up, had been 
on the watch, and had seen him land, and had immedi- 
ately hurried away with the intelligence. 

So Asher Merton was prepared, and be sure he had 
help at hand in case of need. 

Lyon entered the office, and found the attorney alone 
in his. reception room. Mr. Merton greeted him 
respectfully, but he could not return the greeting 
calmly. 

“ Merton,” he said, sitting down to steady himself, 
“ do you know that to-day is the twenty-second of 
December ?” 

“ Yes, I know.” 

“ And to morrow is the twenty- third ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And to-morrow the year is up. To-morrow your 
daughter becomes my wife.” 

“ She is to become your wife, Lyon, when the condi- 
tions of her pledge are fulfilled.” 

“ What mean you, sir ?” 

“ You and I must both demand it.” 

“ Aye, and I demand it. Do not you ?” 


202 


The Spectres Secret . 


“Not yet, Lyon/’ 

“Then, sir, to jail you go! I am not to be trifled 
with. I have the warrant for your arrest on charge of 
misappropriation of funds, and on charge of embezzle- 
ment ; and I shall lodge the same in the hands of the 
sheriff forthwith, if I am forced. But, sir, I will first 
see Lily. She will — ” 

The attorney arose, and put out bis hand. 

“ Lyon Hargrave, I do not think my daughter would 
wish to see you. You may tell me that I am weak, and 
tell nothing new to me. You may tell me that I have 
been wretchedly duped, and you would be telling the 
truth. I know it all — I know it now from beginning 
to end. You would see the sheriff? He is here !” 

As Merton spoke the door of an inner room was 
opened, and Mr. Tobin made his appearance, followed 
by Van Wort and Matt Bungo. 

“ This is the sheriff,” said Merton, coolly ; “ and this 
is Mr. Van Wort, of New York ; and this is an officer 
of the ship Speedwell .” 

Lyon Hargrave had started to his feet as the sheriff 
entered. He knew Mr. Tobin very well. And he had 
heard often of Hobart Van Wort as one of the most 
powerful members of the New York Bar. But when 
he saw the officer of the Speedwell, and recognized Matt 
Bungo, so erect, so stern, and so unflinching, with a new 
and glorified manhood in his face, he shrank back 
appalled. In an instant came the terrible fear that the 
very worst of his villainy had been discovered. He 
saw, from Matt’s look, that he had a sworn and deter- 
mined adversary there. But he was not long to remain 
in doubt. The sheriff advanced, and addressed him : 

“ Lyon Hargrave, I heard, you, a few moments ago, 
speak of putting a warrant into my hands. I can save 
you the trouble. I already have a warrant that will 


Conclusion. 


203 


occupy me for the present. I have a warrant, sir, for 
your arrest, on charge first, of conspiring to steal your 
uncle’s will. The will has been found, sir, and is in 
the hands of the surrogate. Second, — you are charged 
with conspiring for the murder of Horace Moore. 
Third, — you are charged with conspiring to rob the 
mails of the United States. Fourth, — you are charged 
with conspiring for the murder of Edith Somerby. 
Under such a warrant I do not think I ought to hesitate.” 

Lyon Hargrave listened to the end like one death- 
stricken ; but a flush came to his face as the sheriff 
ceased speaking, and with a bound he made for the 
outer door. But Mr. Tobin had observed the flush, 
and had been on his guard. He was too thoroughly 
versed in such tactics to be caught napping. Lyon did 
not escape him ; but was quickly dragged back into the 
office, and a pair of irons snapped upon his wrists. 

We will not linger under the dark shadows. Let us 
get out from them as speedily as possible, for elsewhere 
the skies are bright. Lyon Hargrave was conveyed to 
prison, but the stone walls and the iron bars did not 
long confine him. Had he appeared before the Grand 
Jury, no one would have appeared against him ; but a 
mortal terror had seized him, and he shrank from the 
ordeal of what he felt must be a fatal trial. Ingleside was 
gone — he had staked all, even his life — and lost ! Dick 
Bunker visited him in his prison-house, and told him of 
the doings outside ; and the valet was able to tell very 
nearly how the will had been brought to light, and how 
not only Matt Bungo, but Molly Dowd, had come into 
friendly relations of the warmest kind with Horace 
Moore and Lily Merton and Edith Somerby. 

And then Lyon whispered to Dick, eagerly and 
insanely, asking him if he would not carry out revenge 
upon the traitors. 


204 


The Spectres Secret . 


Dick Bunker shook his head. 

“ No, no, Lyon, I’ve had enough of that. It’s nothing 
to me. Mercy ! old boy, what inducement can you hold 
out to me to dip my hands into such work ?” 

And then Lyon Hargrave knew how weak he was. 

Dick Bunker came once again to the prison ; and one 
morning, after Dick’s last visit, Lyon Hargrave was 
found dead in his bed. The physician and sheriff sus- 
pected poison ; but they held their peace, leaving others 
to suspect what they pleased. 

On New Year’s day, at Ingleside, was one of the 
happiest gatherings of the glad season. On that morn- 
ing Horace and Lily had been quietly married at the 
residence of Asher Merton, with only their immediate 
friends present. And among those friends be sure were 
Mr. Dwinal and son, of New York, Edith Somerby, Mr. 
Van Wort, and Matt Bungo and Molly Dowd. 

And on this evening of the first day of the New Year 
all the crew of the Speedwell had come up from the city, 
and other friends had come in from far and near ; and 
great was the joy, and loud and long the jubilant strains 
which hailed the new and the true Heir of Ingleside. 

And the evening was not to pass without a sensation. 
Just before supper, Matt drew Horace apart. 

“ Captain,” he said, his face all aglow, “ I want you 
to grant me a favor. I’ve got all the necessary docu- 
ments, and the minister is near. Molly and I want to 
be married.” 

“ Matt !” 

“ It’s true, sir. We’ve both found the blessing of 
doing right ; and now Molly’s going to help me, and 
I’m going to help her, in that way, for the rest of our 
lives.” 

“ Bless you, dear old Matt ! it shall be done. You 
shall take your own wife down to supper.” 


Conclusion . 


205 


And in the great drawing-room, with the hardy men 
of the Speedwell's crew given the posts of honor, Matt 
and Molly were married. And Captain Moore gave 
away the bride. 

In conclusion we will tell — Matt Bungo went one more 
voyage to India as chief mate of the Speedwell , taking his 
wife with him. After that he settled down on shore, 
engaged in a lucrative business established for him by 
Horace Moore. He and Molly are still living, prosper- 
ous and happy, gaining new knowledge, day by day, of 
how much better it is to do good than to do evil. 

The legacy left to Edith Somerby by Walter Har- 
grave’s will, with something added from Horace’s 
munificence, made her independent, and she spent her 
time thereafter at the old farmhouse, or at Ingleside, as 
the fancy seized her, being dearly loved, and calmly 
happy at either place. 

And Horace and Lily ? Of course Horace went to sea 
no more. A new and busy and useful and joyous life 
was begun — useful not only to himself and his loved 
ones, but useful wherever his influence could reach. 
And to-day, joy and blessing and peace reign in their 
home. Husband and wife, with love growing stronger 
and deeper every day, watch with tender and healthful 
care their dear children growing up to crown their lives ; 
and though the silver of age has touched their heads, 
the pencilings are bright and cheerful. Since that 
wintry day of the long ago, no more shadows have 
fallen upon Ingleside. 


THE END. 


GLORIA 


21 Not>el. 


BY 

MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH, 

Author of “ The Hidden Hand,” “ The Unloved Wife,” 
“Lilith,” “Unknown,” “A Leap in the Dark,” 
“Nearest and Dearest,” “For Woman's 
Love,” “ The Lost Lady of Lone,” 

“David Lindsay ,” etc., etc . 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY F. A. CARTER. 


12mo. 348 Pa#es. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


The heroine of this novel is one of the most interesting of Mrs. 
Southworth’s charming girls. She is almost as good as Capitola, 
the delightful madcap of “The Hidden Hand.” Her perfect 
naturalness and gayety are so winning that no one can read her 
history without loving her. The story is full of the charm of 
unsophisticated girlhood and womanhood. We are not claiming 
too much when we say that Mrs. Southworth is one of the most 
engaging writers of fiction that this country has produced. Her 
novels have a larger circulation among the people than those 
of any other American writer. She has the gift of making her 
stories interesting, and filling them with pleasant incidents and 
characters, so that when the reader has finished one he wants 
to take up another. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


MRS. HAROLD STAGG. 


A NOVEL. 


BY 

Robert Grant, 

Author of “ Jack Hall,” etc. 


Beautifully Illustrated by Harry C. Edwards. Paper Cover, 50 
Cents. Bound in Cloth, $1.00. 


This is a brilliant novel, in which the author has given a free 
rein to his undoubted faculty for social satire. Mrs. Harold 
Stagg is a capital portraiture whose prototype may be found in 
the drawing-rooms of New York, Boston and Newport. The 
story is told with the amusing and quiet cleverness which has 
made the author’s reputation, and contains many striking ideas 
which will cause Society’s backbone to creep. Like “ The Anglo- 
maniacs,” it places its heroine under a cross-fire from a wealthy 
swell and a talented youth to fame and fortune unknown — a 
situation which allows Mr. Grant an opportunity to exhibit a 
very interesting and unselfish type of the young American 
* woman. In despite of the satire of which Mrs. Harold Stagg is 
the object, every man will like that lady for herself, even though 
he may not be as blindly devoted as her husband. 


/jDiiin43oqc|iS8ii LILITH: 

A Sequel to “The Unloved Wife.” 


By MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH. 

,J J.i: I MJ04U A M 

With Illustrations by O. W. Simons. 

• fl ;• • I a I a & tt. JbSiTAo dal ut 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. Bound in Cloth, $1.00. 

.BJaeO 05 t isvoO 


In “Lilith,” Mrs. Southworth has taken up the fortunes of her 


heroine from the date of her disappearance in “ The Unloved 



and thus they form a more extended and more beautiful develop- 


ment of life and character than either constitutes alone. In 

IT notify' m isnTnTm tfmnnw - 

“The Unloved Wife” Lilith is a girl; in “Lilith” she is a 

woman. There are more power and more of the interest and 

'JZflfl, 1/192 tfl l'0f • 1 

influence of independent individuality and character in the sequel 

than in the first part of the heroine’s strange and tragic history. 
All who read one will desire to rend the other, 


A Story of a Strange Disappearance. 


WAS SHE WIFE OR WIDOW ? 


BY 

MALCOLM BELL. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY F. A. CARTER. 


13mo. 318 Pages. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


It is a most excellent novel, provoking curiosity to the utmost 
and holding the interest at the highest to the end. We never 
read anything quite like it before. “ Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde ” 
is not more strange and not more interesting. To enter into the 
plot of the story would not give a correct and adequate idea of 
the author’s conception and the admirable manner in which it is 
worked out. It is as good as one of Gaboriau’s detective stories. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, post- 
paid, on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


A LOVE MATCH 


BY 

Sylvanus Cobb, Jr, 

Author of “ The Gunmaker of Moscow f etc . 

WITH NUMEROUS CHOICE ILLUSTRATIONS BY G. A. TRAVEL* 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. Bound in Cloth, $1.00. 


Everybody recognizes Sylvanus Cobb’s great popularity. We 
offer this explanation : In his stories there is always something 
going on. His characters are never dull. They do not preach 
or philosophize, but act, work, quarrel, fight, make love, and 
keep the reader busy following up the movement in which every- 
thing culminates. “ The Gunmaker of Moscow ” is a constant 
succession of thrilling actions. ** A Love Match ” is a somewhat 
different kind of story, but the action is the main thing in it. 
From the very beginning, it is clear that the author has a story to 
teil of an interesting and original character. The eccentric old 
lady, so rich, reticent and mysterious, takes hold of the mind, 
and when she adopts the waif that is placed at her door, we are 
conscious of the fact that we are caught in a genuine story-teller’s 
toils. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New loik. 


EUGENIE GRANDET. 

/ 


TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF 


Honore De Balzac. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY JAMES FA GAN, 


12mo. Bound in Cloth, $1.00. Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


“ Eugenie Grandet” is one of the greatest of novels. It is the 
history of a good woman. Every student of French is familiar 
with it, and an opportunity is now afforded to read it in a good 
English translation. The lesson of the book is the hideousness 
of the passion of the miser. Eugenie’s father is possessed by it 
in a degree of intensity probably unknown in America, and to 
our public it will come as a revelation. What terrible suffering 
he inflicts upon his family by his ferocious economy and unscru- 
pulousness only Balzac’s matchless narrative could show. The 
beautiful nature of Eugenie shines like a meteor against the black 
background, and her self-sacrifice, her sufferings and her superb 
strength of character are wrought out, and the story brought to a 
climax, with the finest intellectual and literary power and dis- 
crimination. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 

-f -*yvv ' • ; • • . , 7. 


THE NORTHERN LIGHT 


ViAJ4$>*k> 21 Hi MOMT <JjiTAJ8ViA2lT 

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF 


E. WERNER, 


BY 


Mrs. D. 


M. Lowrey. 


12mo. 373 Pages. Handsomely Bound in Cloth, Price, $1.00. 
Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


Since the death of the author of “Old Ma’mselle’s Secret,” 
Werner is the most popular of living German writers. Her 
novels are written with great literary ability, and possess the 
charm of varied character, incident and scenery. “ The Northern 

Light ” is one of her most characteristic stories. The heroine is 

pdl mtman$Da% ifiaia ama lOiunT .jgmJainoJm aion: 

a woman of great beauty and strength of individuality. No less 

interesting is the young poet who, from beginning to end, con- 

10 Jqrwsrf 4io bffiqTgoq snaa to *87i>ilLi83ood fir. yd ofna •joT 

stantly piques the curiosity of the reader. 


For sale by all booksellers, or sent, postpaid, on receipt of 


price, by 


t WnM MAIJJlW 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, Publishers 


y 


Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


The Breach of Custom. 


TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN 


BY 

Mrs. D. M. Lowrey 


WITH CHOICE ILLUSTRATIONS BY O. W. SIMONS. 

v '? H W '■'= .1 . M C'y r iM 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. Bound Volume, $1.00. 


This is a translation of an interesting and beautiful German 
uovel, introducing an artist and his family, and dealing with the 
most pathetic circumstances and situations. The heroine is an 
ideal character. Her self-sacrifice is noble and exalted, and the 
influence which radiates from her is pure and ennobling. Every 
one who reads this book will feel that it is one which will be a 
life influence. Few German stones have more movement or are 
more interesting. There are great variety and charm in the 
characters and situations. 

_ .b-vi oi ‘fn.muijjrki moil ,odw looq snimv odi zi gfttteMaJo 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of 

price by 

ROBERT BONNER'S SONS, Publishers, 


:iU4U\ 


182 William Street, New York. 


LITTLE HEATHER-BLOSSOM 


(ERICA.) 

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF 

C* V V X vU i J -- j JLJl\ JL a. a a. a 

FRAU VON INGERSLEBEN, 

BY 

MARY J. SAFFORD. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY W A BURN B. DAVIS. 


12mo. 470 Pages. Handsomely Bound in Cloth.. Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 



This novel is one of the most interesting that has been pub- 
lished in this country, taken from the German. It has more 
variety of character and scenery than is usual in German novels. 
All admirers of Marlitt will find it a novel to their taste. Miss 
Safford, the translator, who was the first to discover the merit of 
Werner and Heimburg, is very partial to it. Among its salient 
points are a wreck, a runaway, life in a castle on the Rhine, with 
its terraces sloping to the river, balls, entertainments and exqui- 
site character sketches. The heroine is one of the loveliest 
creations of fiction. 

F or sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


BERYL’S HUSBAND. 


BT 

Mrs. Harriet Lewis. 

Author of “ Lady Kildare” “ Sundered Hearts ,” li Het 
Double Life,” etc . 

WITH NUMEROUS FULLPAOB ILLUSTRATIONS BT O. A. TRAVER 


Paper Cover, 60 cents. Bound in Cloth, $1.00. 


00.1$ .riJoIO tftl bitsi oft xtewoxba&H. .bv&s*! 0?^ .oxa&l 

A very charming story. It opens on the shores of Lake Leman, 
in the romantic city of Geneva, under the shadow of Mont Blanc. 
A young English girl, who has been educated at a boarding- 
school at Vevay, is suddenly left without natural guardians and 
means of support. Her beauty and interesting character attract 
a young English traveller, who induces her to run away with him 
and marry him. This is the beginning of a romantic novel of 
extraordinary vicissitudes and adventures. To give an analysis 
of the plot and situations would mar the interest of the reader. 
It is sufficient to say that it is equal to the best of Mrs. Lewis’s 
novels, not excepting “Her Double Life” and “Lady Kildare.” 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


REUNITED. 

A. STORY OF THE CIVIL WAR. 


BY A POPULAR SOUTHERN AUTHOR. 


Illustrated by F. A. Carter. 


Handsomely Decorated Paper Cover, Price, 60 Cents. Bound 
in Cloth, Price, $1.00. 


This is a splendid novel of the late War. It deals with the 

armies and their operations on both sides and shows the feelings 

iQinijt/iiino3 c £ ou si i. m * .n oott nii5j * n/- 

of brothers who crossed swords in the conflict. The main theatre 

of the incidents is the State of Kentucky and the famous blue- 
grass region celebrated for its beautiful women, its fine horses 
and its more widely known Bourbon whiskey. There is a brisk 
movement in the novel, in keeping with scouting, marching and 
cavalry charging. The author was a soldier, and he has crowded 


his pages with adventures and stories of camp-life, which have 
great interest, and charm one by their truth to nature. Rarely 
has any great cnsis produced more heroic spirits than the War 
for the Union. They fought and bled on both sides of the line, 
• and this novel commemorates their valor, and shows how true 
hearts were reunited at the end of the struggle, and that peace 
brought more than mere cessation from strife. This is a novel 
which appeals to every one. 


A CAPITAL AMERICAN STORY. 

UNDER A CLOUD. 


BY JEAN KATE LUDLUM, 

Author of “ Under Oathf etc . 

.TfvruaO .A .’l <d , 

ILLUSTRATED BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 

luurofT .aiiyoO 05 ,tavoO 'xfMjjet*! Jx*Sw>~(*rl 

12mo. 300 Pag-es. With Numerous Illustrations. Handsomely 
Bound in Cloth, Price, $1.00. Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


It was once asked by a celebrated Englishman : “ Who reads 
an American Book ?” The question is no longer a conundrum. 
American books are the popular reading of the present day. 
“ Under a Cloud” is a spirited and pathetic account of the trials 
of a New York lady, who, in consequence of a promise wrung 
from her by her father, is put into relations with her husband 
which are almost uuprecedented. The chain of circumstances 
by which the husband is implicated in a crime and the heroic 

efforts of the wife to traverse this chain and unravel the mystery 

■ 

make a history of overpowering interest 
For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


A New Book by the Author of “ The Beads of 

Tasmer.” 


MRS. BARR’S SHORT STORIES. 


“Femmetia’s Strange Experience” and 
Other Stories. 




BY 

AMELIA E. BARR, 

Author of “ The Beads of Tasmer,” “ Love For An Hour Is 
Love Forever ,” “A Sister to Esau,” “ Jan Vedder's 
Wife,” “Friend Olivia,” “A Bow of 
Orange Ribbon,” etc., etc. 

12mo. 350 Pag-es. With Portrait of the Author and Numerous 

Illustrations. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.25. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 

All admirers of Mrs. Barr’s novels will be glad to possess a col- 
lection of her short stories. No writer of the day has won an 
honorable place in the literary world by more thorough and ad- 
mirable work. For many years a contributor to the best period- 
icals, her shorter tales afforded the training by which she rose to 
higher flights in her more extended works. We read the 
short stories of a great writer with curiosity to see what strikes 
the eye and mind in moments of relaxation and at play„ These 
short stories of Mrs. Barr are full of happy thoughts, situations, 
incidents, poetry and wisdom. They supply agreeable diver- 
sion for many a leisure moment. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


THE CARLETONS. 

BY 

Robert Grant, 

Author of “Mrs. Harold Staggf “ Confessions of a Frivolous ^ 

Girlf etc. 

ILLUSTRATED BY WILSON DE MEZA. 

/ 

12 mo. 309 Pages. Illustrated. Handsomely Bound in Cloth, 
Price, $1.00,- Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 

In u The Carletons ” Mr. Grant has given his admirers a fresh 
and delightful novel. It is a New England story and the char- 
acters are truthfully drawn. Boston is the scene of the principal 
transactions, although the story opens in a neighboring suburban 
town. The charm of the story is in the humorous delineation of 
New England family life. The children are interesting, and 
when they grow up into men and women, as they do in the 
progress of the story, they are more interesting and charming, 
and the reader takes a deep and abiding interest in their history 
to the close. Mr. Grant’s amusing and refreshing humor lights 
up every page of the book. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


An Insignificant Woman. 

21 Storjj of 2Utist jtife. 

BV _ 

Is ; X ■ i i j _ . ; - t V * * ■' f i \ ■ J I. 

W. Heimburg. 


TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN 


By MARY STUART SMITH. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 

art'! sri.ioIO iii fuxwofll <.t«H arv^js 4 ! iciti 


12mo. Beautifully 


sJneO 06 r ie 

Illustrated. 


Price, $1.00. 


Handsomely Bound in Cloth, 
Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


— 

' >voa OftT oil 


This is a matchless story. It is a vindication of woman. It 
ends finely, so as to bring out beautifully the glorious character 
of the heroine, the insignificant woman. The combination of 
the artistic and practical in this story makes it peculiarly suited 
to the taste of our times. It is impossible to imagine more 
beautiful and effective lessons of magnanimity and forbearance, 
strength and gentleness, than are inculcated in this novel. 
Every woman who lives for her children, her husband and her 
home will find her heart mirrored in the pages of this fascinating 
story. It is told in a manner that must please all readers, and is 
exquisitely rendered in the translation. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New Fork. 


THE CHAUTAUQUANS. 


BY 

HABBERTON, 

of “Helen's Babies etc . 


JOHN 


Author 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 


avvvu.'u ■'in. 


it: 


12mo. 351 Pag-es. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.25. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 

9oTO .tI him- H nioeoiutH > H I vlfinHirAm .ont-* f 


All interested in the famous Chautauquan reading-circles will 
welcome this novel. All who have been to Chautauqua will rec- 
ognize the perfect truth of the descriptions. The novel is an 
encyclopedia of information about getting up a Chautauqua 
circle. It tells in an amusing way the effect of starting a move- 
ment in a country village, and the enthusiasm which it arouses 
among young and old when once the organization gets into 
working order. Mr. Habberton is a veteran story-teller, and his 
new story is full of interest. There are in it many humorous and 
pathetic situations. The rich variety of characters in a typical 
American village affords the author a great opportunity for intro- 
ducing interesting portraits and sketches. Altogether the book 
is one of the most notable literary achievements which the Chau- 
tauqua movement has brought forth. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER'S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New Y>rk. 


THE IMPROVISATORE; 

OR, 

LIFE IN ITALY. 

TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH OF 

Hans Christian Andersen, 

By MARY HOWITT. . 

ILLUSTRATED BY BARRY O, EDWARDS, 


12mo. Bound in Cloth, $1.00. Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


This is an entrancing romance dealing with the classic scenes 
of Italy. To those who desire to behold with their own eyes 
those scenes, it will create a fresh spring of sentiment, and fill 
them with unspeakable longing. To those who have visited the 
fair and memory-haunted towers and towns of Florence, Rome 
and Naples, it will revive their enthusiasm and refresh their 
knowledge. Andersen published this novel immediately after 
his return from Italy, and it created an extraordinary effect. 
Those who had depreciated the author’s talent came forward 
voluntarily and offered him their homage. It is a work of such 
singular originality and beauty that no analysis or description 
could do it justice, and the universal admiration which it at once 
excited has caused it to be read arid reread throughout the world. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


THE TWO HUSBANDS; 

OR, 

BURIED SECRETS. 

BY 

MRS. HARRIET LEWIS. 

Author of “ Her Double Life,” “ Lady Kildare ,” “ Edda's 
Birthright ,” “Beryl's Husband ,” etc. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY F. A. CARTER. 


12mo. 402 Pages. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


This is one of the most interesting of Mrs. Lewis’s novels. It 
opens with the quest for an heiress. Some of the chapter-headings 
are full of suggestiveness, as, for instance: “The Night Before 
the Wedding,” “Husband and Wife,” “Affairs Take a Strange 
Turn,” “ A Conflict,” “ Now for Revenge,” “ Explanations,” etc. 
There is a plot and strong situations, and abundance of incident 
and movement in the story. Mrs. Lewis never failed to write a 
novel that would hold the reader from the first to the last chapter 
and satisfy the desire for agreeable excitement. To all who have 
read and admired “Her Double Life” we recommend “The 
Two Husbands.” 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, post- 
paid, on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


“A GOOD FRENCH NOVEL.” 

- 

MADEMOISELLE DESROCHES 

mm 

Andre Theuriet, 


TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH 


By META DE VERE. 

»i >.ha&0 00 «itwoO jQO.ify **01**1 

IP/MT ILLUSTRATIONS BY HARRY C. EDWARDS. 

a £ si Jl io4 s) Is Von y/ >a e’molbuj aaiM 

12mo. 320 Pages. Illustrated. Handsomely Bound in Cloth, 

Price, $1.00. Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 

" ' f 1 ■■ 

Andr6 Theuriet 5s a name well known to readers of choice 
fiction. Her novels occupy a high place in modern French 
literature. Many of them have been translated and published 
here, but this one, so far as we can ascertain, is entirely new. 
It is the story of a French physician’s daughter brought up by a 
French peasant family, whose good sense and delicacy of feeling 
are strengthened by a simple country life. Her subsequent his- 
tory is full of interest, and shows how closely character and truth 
and romance are related. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets. New York. 


THE LEDGER LIBRARY. 

S' 

►“< : 


1. — HER DOUBLE LIFE. By Mrs. Har-^ 

riet Lewis. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. , 

2. — UNKNOWN. By Mrs. Southworth.' 

Cloth $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

3. — THE GUN MAKER OF MOSCOW. By 

Sylvanus Cobb, Jr. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 
2 0 cts 

4. — MAUD MORTON. By Major A. R. 

Calhoun. Cloth. $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

5. — THE HIDDEN HAND. By Mrs. E. 

D. E. N. Southworth. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 
50 cts. 


6.— SUNDERED HEARTS. By Mrs. Har- 
riet Lewis. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 
7r— THE STONE-CUTTER OF LISBON. 
By Wm. Henry Peck. Cloth, $1.00; 
paper, 50 cts. 

8. — LADY KILDARE. By Mrs. Harriet 

Lewis. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

9. — CRIS ROCK. By Captain Mayne Reid. 

Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

10 — NEAREST AND DEAREST. By Mrs. 
E. D. E. N. Southworth. Cloth, $1.00; 
paper, 50 cts. 

11. — THE BAILIFF’S SCHEME. By Mrs. 

Harriet Lewis. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 
50 cts 

12. — HENRY M. STANLEY - . By H. F. Red- 

dall. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

13. — A LEAP IN THE DARK. By Mrs. 

E. D. E. N. Southworth. Cloth, $1.00; 
paper, 50 cts. 

14. — THE OLD LIFE’S SHADOWS. By 

Mrs. Harriet Lewis. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 
50 cts. 

15— A MAD BETROTHAL. By Laura Jean 
Libbey. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

16.— THE LOST LAD Y OF LONE. By Mrs. 
E. D. E. N. Southworth. Cloth, $1.00; 


paper, 50 cts. 

17 . _ IONE. By Laura Jean Libbey. Cloth, 

$1.00 ; paper 50 cts. 

18. — FOR WOMAN’S LOVE. By Mrs. E. D.. 

E. 1ST. Southworth. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 
50 cts. _ 

19— CESAR BIROTTEAU. By Honore De 
Balzac. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

20. — THE BARONESS BLANK. By 

Niemann: Cloth, $1.00 ; paper. 50 cts. 

21. — PARTED BY FATE. By Laura Jean 

Libbey. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

22. — THE FORSAKEN INN. By Anna 

^Katharine Green. Cloth, $1.50; paper, 
50 cts 

23. — OTTiLIE ASTER’S SILENCE. 

Translated from the German. Cloth, 
$1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

24. — EDDA’S BIRTHRIGHT. By Mrs. Har- 

riet Lewis. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, -50 cts. 

25. — THE ALCHEMIST. From the French 

of Honore De Balzac. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 
50 cts. . , . 

26— UNDER OATH. — An Adirondack 

Story. By Jean Kate Ludlum. Cloth, 
$1.00; paper, 50 cts. „ , , 

27.— COUSIN PONS. From the French of 
Honore De Balzac. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 




28 . — THE* UNLOVED WIFE. By Mrs. E. D. 

E. N. Southworth. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 

29. — LILITH. By Mrs. E. D. E. N. South- 

worth. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 


30. — REUNITED. By A Popular Southern 

Author. Cloth, $1.00; paper. 60 cts. 

31. — MRS. HAROLD STAGG. By Robert 

Grant. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

32. — THE BREACH OF CUSTOM. From 

the German. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

33. — THE NORTHERN LIGHT. Trans- 

lated from the German of E. Werner. 
Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

34. — BERYL’S HUSBAND. By Mrs. Har- 

riet Lewis. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 60 cts. 

35. — A LOVE MATCH. By Sylvanus- 

Cobb, Jr. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

36. - A MATTER OF MILLIONS. By Anna 

Katharine Green. Cloth, $1.50; paper, 
50 cts 

37. — EUGENIE GRANDET. By Honore 

De Balzac.^ Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts 

38. — THE IMPROVISATORE. Translated 

from the Danish of Hans Christian 
Andersen. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

39. — PAOLI, THE WARRIOR BISHOP, 

or The Fall of the Christians. By W. 
C. Kitchin. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

40. — UNDER A CLOUD. By Jean Kate 

Ludlum. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

41. — WIFE AND WOMAN. Translated 

from the German by Mary J. Salford. 
Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

42. — an Insignificant woman. 

Translated from the German of W. 
Heimburg, by Mary Stuart Smith. 
Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

43. — THE CARLETONS. By Robert Grant. 

Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

44. — MADEMOISELLE DESROCHES. 

Translated from the French of Andre 
Theuriet, by Meta De Vere. Cloth, $1.00 ; 
paper, 50 cts. 

45. — THE BEADS OF TASMER. By 

Amelia E. Barr. Cloth, $1.25 ; paper, 
50 cts. 

46. — JOHN WTNTHROP’S DEFEAT. By 

Jean Kate Ludlum. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 
50 cts. 


47. — LITTLE HEATHER - BLOSSOM. 

Translated from the German, by Mary J. 
Salford. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

48. — GLORIA. By Mrs. E. D. E. N. South. 

worth. Cloth. $ 1 . 00 ; paper, 50 cts. f 

49. — DAVID LINDSAY. A sequel to Gloria. 

By Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth. Cloth, 
$1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

60.— THE LITTLE COUNTESS. Trans- 
lated from the German by S. E. Boggs. 
Cloth, $1.00 : paper, 50 cts. 

51. — THE CHAUTAUqUANS. By John 

Habberton. Cloth, $1.25 ; paper, 50 cts. 

52. — THE TWO HUSBANDS. By Mrs. 

Lewis. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper 50 cts. 

53. — MRS. BARR’S SHORT STORIES. 

By Amelia E. Barr. Cloth, $1.25 ; paper, 
50 cts. 

54. — WE PARTED AT THE ALTAR. By 

Laura Jean Libbey. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 
50 cts. 

55. — WAS SHE WIFE OR WIDOW ? By 

Malcolm Bell. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 
66. — THE COUNTRY DOCTOR. By Hon- 
ore De Balzac. Cloth, $1 .00 ; paper, 50 cts. 
57.— F L O R I B E L ’ S LOVER, or Rival 
Belles. By Laura Jean Libbey. Cloth, 
$1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 


For sale by all Booksellers and Newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Sts., New York. 


THE POPULAR SERIES 


— i— THJE OUTCAST OF MILAN. A Companion Story to 

“ The Gunmaker of Moscow.” By Sylvanus Cobb, Jr. Paper 
Cover. Price, 25 Cents. 

— 2— KOLLO OF NORMANDY. By Sylvanus Cobb, Jr. Paper 

Cover. Price, 25 Cents. 

— 3— MART SATTERLEE AMONG THE INDIANS. By 

William O. Stoddard. Paper Cover. Price, 25 Cents. 

— 4— KIT CARSON’S LAST TRAIL. By Leon Lewis. Paper 

Cover. Price, 25 Cents. 

— 5— THE SCOtfRGE OF DAMASCUS. By Sylvanus Cobb, Jr. 

Paper Cover. Price, 25 Cents. 

— 6— THE GREAT KENTON FEUD. By Capt. Frederick 

Whittaker. Paper Cover. Price, 25 Cents. 

— 7— LUKE HAMMOND THE MISER. By Wm. Henry Peck. 

Paper Cover. Price, 25 Cents. 

— 8— THE CONSPIRATOR OF CORDOVA. By Sylvanus 

Cobb, Jr. Paper Cover. Price, 25 Cents. 

— 9— THE FORTUNES OF CONRAD. By Sylvanus Cobb, Jr. 

Paper Cover. Price, 25 Cents. 

—10— THE DIAMOND SEEKER OF BRAZIL. By Leon 
Lewis. Paper Cover. Price, 25 Cents. 

—11— THE ROBBER COUNTESS. By Sylvanus Cobb, Jr. 
Paper Cover. Price, 25 Cents. 

— 12 — BEL RUBIO. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. Paper Cover. 
Price, 25 Cents. 

— 13 — THE ROYAL OUTLAW. By Sylvanus Cobb, Jr. Paper 
Cover. Price, 25 Cents. 

— 14— THE BANDIT OF SYRACUSE. By Sylvanus Cobb, Jr. 
Paper Cover. Price, 25 Cents. 

— 15 — RODERICK OF KILDARE. By Sylvanus Cobb, Jr. 
Paper Cover. Price, 25 Cents. 

— 16— THE SERF LOVERS OF SIBERIA. By Leon Lewis. 
Paper Cover. Price, 25 Cents. 

— 1 7 — KARL THE LION. B) Sylvanus Cobb, Jr. Paper Cover. 

Price, 25 Cents. 

— 18— THE YOUNG CASTAWAYS. By Leon Lewis. Paper 

Cover. Price, 25 Cents. 

— 19— THE CALLPH OF BAGDAD. By Sylvanus Cobb, Jr. 
Paper Cover. Price, 25 Cents. 

For sale by all Booksellers and Newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Sts., New York. 





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